In A Time Of Uncertainty
by Marauder
Summary: Years ago Percy and Oliver were together but an unfortunate combination of circumstances and lies split them up. Now, after the Ministry has officially announced Voldemort's return, they attempt to be a couple again. AU since HBP.
1. Part One, Chapter One

Part One, Chapter One

The first summer that Oliver's parents knew, he and his mother went to Chartres in France for July and August. His father, much to Oliver's relief, had a great aversion to travel and decided to stay home.

"But – but what about Quidditch?" had been the first thing out of Michael Wood's mouth after Oliver told him. His mouth stayed open; Oliver wished that he would shut it. It made him feel like something freakish that was to be stared at.

"Oh, _honestly_, Michael!" snapped Oliver's mother, angrily setting down her glass of pumpkin juice. It was all she was eating for breakfast. _Witch Weekly_ had just published a new diet and she had jumped on it, hoping to lose the twenty pounds she'd gained since having surgery on her foot. It was her sixth diet in as many months, much to her dismay. "He still has arms, doesn't he? He still has legs! It doesn't make one bit of difference. Besides – " she picked up her glass again " – remember Dai Llewellyn and Abelard Block."

"That was a rumor, Anne," said Oliver's father, his mouth shutting at last as he turned to look at his wife.

"It was _not_. They've just published a book of their letters."

Oliver's father rolled his eyes heavenward. They were blue eyes, solid and never changing. "I just don't want there to be any trouble."

That was enough. "Fine," said Oliver, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. His parents looked at him in surprise. "Fine. Forget I said anything. We'll never discuss it again. I'll be at school in another couple of months and then I graduate and you can pretend I never said anything." He pushed his chair back in a bit too hard and stormed out of the dining room.

His mother followed him upstairs. She found him lying on his bed, tossing his Quaffle up to the ceiling and catching it as it floated down, a glazed look in his eye.

"He loves you, Oliver," said Anne Wood, sitting down on the side of the bed.

"Of course he does," said Oliver stoically, reaching up to catch the descending red ball. "I'm Gryffindor captain for the third year in a row."

"He would love you even if you were hopeless at Quidditch."

"Sure, Mum. That's why he offered so much support and expressed so much concern for me."

"Oliver, stop tossing that Quaffle. You're going to break the skylight if you aren't careful."

Oliver caught the Quaffle and set it down next to his pillow.

"Oliver, your father's mad about Quidditch, that's a fact. But that isn't why he brought it up. He brought it up because he knows you love it and he wanted to make sure that you wouldn't lose it."

"Well, it should be bloody _obvious_ that I won't lose it," said Oliver, exasperation reaching the boiling point. He was sick of having to explain himself. "I mean, what's going to happen, some official is going to send me a letter saying, 'Dear Mr. Wood, We regret to inform you that we are forced to suspend you from Quidditch for the rest of your life due to the fact that you are a pouf'?"

"Well, of course not, but he didn't want things to be uncomfortable."

"Great. What does he think, I'm going to seduce the male half of my team in the showers after a match?"

"For _you_, Oliver," sighed his mother. Oliver looked at her at last. Her forehead was wrinkled in frustration and her eyes were at half-mast. "He didn't want things to be uncomfortable for _you_."

Oliver closed his eyes. "I'll believe that when he tells me it himself." He took a deep breath. "All he ever talks to me about is Quidditch."

"To be honest, Ol, I don't think he knows what else to talk with you about."

"Well, now I know one thing he doesn't know how to talk with me about."

"Give him time, Oliver. Give him time."

"I can't," said Oliver, looking at his mother for the second time. Her thick brown hair, olive skin, and brown eyes were the same as his; the muscular physique and all of the facial features came from his father. "I gave myself time to accept who I am. That was seventeen years. I'm sick of waiting."

"Ol, I think he's just in shock right now. He never expected this from you."

"Oh, maybe I should have bleached my hair and worn frilly pink robes to prepare him."

His mother let out a huff of annoyance and stood up. "Fine. If that's the way you're going to be, fine. We're leaving for Chartres tomorrow, and you haven't packed." She turned around and walked out the door.

After what seemed like long minutes of staring at nothing in particular, Oliver got off the bed and unearthed his trunk from the closet.

He packed his books first, lining them up along the bottom of the trunk. He smiled when he reached his copy of _Quidditch Through The Ages_; he'd made the mistake of leaving it in the common room once last year, only to find to inside cover drawn upon (thanks to Fred and George Weasley) the next morning. Their drawings depicted the Slytherin team (all with ugly haircuts and crooked teeth) sobbing pitifully while the Gryffindors held up the Quidditch Cup and cheered. The drawing was sprinkled with arrows and notes, saying things such as, "Sorry we made your hair look like a dead puffskein, Ol" and "Couldn't remember whether Bletchley's wart was on the right side of his nose or his left, so we gave him two".

As he placed the book on the top of the pile, Oliver wondered briefly what would happen if he told Fred and George he was gay. No reaction on their part immediately came to mind. He thought of the way the mercilessly teased their brother Percy about his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater. Would they tease Oliver more or less?

"Oliver!" he heard his mother yell from downstairs. "I'm going out to buy groceries. There's nothing left in this house to eat."

Oliver got up and ran to the top of the stairs. "Get me as much milk as you can," he called down. He drank it in enormous proportions, at least three large glasses per meal.

"All right," said his mother, and Oliver heard the door close.

The next thing he took out of his bookshelf were four of his favorite murder mysteries. He'd discovered the genre in fifth-year Muggle Studies and was instantly hooked. He loved the way they made his mind work, how they made him notice detail and how the strategic attitude involved was not unlike that of Quidditch. The first novel he placed in the trunk was one that had made him particularly frustrated; he'd decided after careful deliberation that the culprit was the Spanish ambassador's wife, only to discover that it was the delivery boy from the bakery. Oliver was determined to go back and pick out all the clues he had missed.

His clothes were next to go into the trunk, his favorite worn pair of Muggle corduroys first. They were black, with fraying edges and at least four patched parts, but Oliver stubbornly refused to throw them out. "Honestly, Ol, you've had them since fifth year," his mother protested, but her words always fell on deaf ears. Oliver had worn the trousers under his robes in some of Gryffindor's best games and considered them lucky.

He hesitated to pack his dress robes, but he figured that his mother was bound to come up with some reason why he had to wear them abroad, some restaurant or the like. Anne Wood was not the type of person who fancied calm, relaxed holidays. Last year's trip to Grand Cayman had frustrated her to no end; after seeing the turtle farms and governor's mansion, you were out of places to go and forced to lie on the beach.

Oliver felt an odd twinge as he put his blue robe on the top of the nearly-full trunk; his father had given them to him as a Christmas present last year. "You had robes this color when you were around eight or so, and I always thought it was a nice color," his father had said at the time. "I think there's a picture of you in them somewhere downstairs…"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oliver and his mother left for Chartres in the morning on the train. 

"So," said Oliver to his father once they were about to board. The two hadn't spoken all morning, not even when Oliver's owl Ares had crashed into the wall and landed in the porridge. 

"Have a good time in Chartres," said Oliver's father, his voice heavy.

"I will."

"Bring me back photographs, especially of that cathedral your mother keeps going on about."

"All right."

"Love you, Ol."

Oliver looked up, surprised.

He thought about it for the entire train ride.


	2. Part One, Chapter Two

Part One, Chapter Two

__

Dear Jean-Marc,

We've won the Quidditch Cup! You should have seen it, it was brilliant. And then Summer of Fire arrived two days afterwards. Thanks for translating it and sending it to me; I'm at the part where François is watching Michel in the shower. I'd be further, except that

"Oliver? Oliver, are you with us?"

Oliver hurriedly scribbled "_I have to study for N.E.W.T.s_" and shoved the parchment under his notebook. "Sorry, sir."

"If I see you distracted one more time today, it'll be five points from Gryffindor."

"It won't happen again, Professor Lupin."

"All right." Lupin looked over his gradebook, searching for a name he hadn't called recently. The Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. was in a week and a day, and every class period was being devoted to review. Lupin's eyes paused near the middle of the list. "Marcus. Where do Red Caps get their name from?"

Marcus Flint would have answered under normal conditions, but Gryffindor's win had put him in a bad mood. "That's third-year stuff," he muttered, narrowing his thick eyebrows.

From across the aisle, Oliver heard a loud, dramatic sigh that could only mean one thing: Percy Weasley was displeased. Oliver put his hand to his mouth so that no one else could see him smile. Most of their year considered Percy to be an arrogant prat, but Oliver didn't mind him, really. Sure, he could be a bit irritating and would probably die of a stress-induced ulcer before his thirtieth birthday, but he wasn't a _cruel_ person.

"Topics you learned in your third year will also be covered on the exam," said Lupin pleasantly.

"They dye their caps red with blood from their victims," said Flint in a monotone.

"Excellent. A point to Slytherin. Let me see…Atalanta, I don't believe you've had a question for a while."

Atalanta Swift was a tall, thickly-built Gryffindor whose passion in life was athletics. She didn't play on the Quidditch team, however, because she had joined the class at the start of fourth year. Previously she had lived in Luxembourg, where her father had worked for the British Wizarding Embassy.

"Don't think I 'ave," said Atalanta cheerfully, her Cockney accent unchanged by eight years abroad.

Lupin smiled. "All right. Which Unforgivable Curse can be fought?"

"The Imperius Curse," Atalanta said promptly. "You've got to 'ave a strong will, though, an' concentrate on your own thoughts."

"Wonderful response," said Lupin. "Seeing as you provided information beyond the answer of the question, I think I'll make it two points to Gryffindor."

Atalanta's friend Victoria Main, who sat in front of her, turned around. The two of them exchanged a high-five that echoed through the room and grinned at each other, satisfied.

"Dykes," muttered Flint, putting his head down on his desk.

Don't look at him, Oliver told himself, don't react – 

Lupin, who had been walking towards his desk, stopped and slowly turned around. He looked at Flint; his face was calm but his eyes were bright and intense, an intensity that Oliver had never seen pierce through the weariness before. "Excuse me?"

Flint said something indistinguishable under his breath.

Lupin sighed, set down his gradebook on his desk, and turned to face the class. "I see that a large part of your education has been neglected," he said, his voice low. "You may close your books. I believe that this will take the remainder of the period." Silently, exchanging furtive looks, the class did as he said. Oliver had to keep reminding himself to breathe.

"Now," Lupin continued. He began to pace across the front of the room. "You have no doubt noticed that the world's Muggle population far exceeds that of wizards. Several factors have influenced this, but only one needs to concern us today. How many of you take Muggle Studies?"

From the corner of his eye, Oliver could see a few hands rise. "Five?" said Lupin. He was still pacing. "Less than I had hoped for, but never mind. Percy."

Oliver turned his head and blinked in surprise. Percy, usually smug and superior when called upon in class, was blushing a bright shade of pink. His eyes stared resolutely down at the desk, and from Oliver's position across the aisle he could see that Percy was twisting his fingers under the desk.

"Percy, would you happen to know the percentage of Muggles who are homosexual?"

Percy bit his lip. Oliver stared. "Between five and ten percent." He sat up, took a breath, and the old haughtiness returned. "That is the widely accepted estimate, though others have speculated both lower and higher."

"Quite right. A point to Gryffindor." Lupin stopped pacing and looked directly at Flint. "Among wizards, thirty-five percent of the population is not heterosexual."

Oliver felt a rush of relief he hadn't felt since the win of the Cup. That certainly explained Jean-Marc's massive circle of gay friends. But…if the numbers were that high, then why had it been such a shock to his father?

"Yes, Victoria?"

"If the percentage is so high," asked Victoria Main, "then why haven't we ever heard about it before?"

"There are members of the wizarding community who view it as a weakness, the reason why wizards do not dominate the world," said Lupin. When he spoke again, Oliver thought he could detect a trace of bitterness in his voice. "There are also those who wish to deny and suppress every difference among our kind. Class is dismissed. Oh, and Marcus – ten points from Slytherin."

Oliver picked up his books, and followed the rest of the class out the door. Percy was two people in front of him; his face was still curiously red.


	3. Part One, Chapter Three

Part One, Chapter Three

News about Lupin's class spread fast.

"I'm not surprised in the least," said Katie Bell during dinner. She reached across the table for the rolls. "I mean, look at my family. One uncle, two aunts, two cousins, and one brother."

Alicia Spinnet looked up. "Robert's gay?"

"Yeah. He's living in Wales with his lover Emmett right now. Oliver, is it absolutely necessary that you drink a whole pitcher of milk?"

"Yes," said Oliver, pouring his fourth glass. Katie rolled her eyes.

"I don't know about anyone in my family," said Angelina Johnson, spooning some more carrots onto her plate. "I've got twenty cousins, though, and I'm the oldest – maybe some of them will turn out to be gay."

"Well, I'm Muggle-born, so the thirty-five percent doesn't apply," said Alicia. She turned to Oliver. "You're pure-blooded, right?"

"Yeah."

Katie looked over at him. "So am I. We're probably related somehow, then."

"Actually, probably not," said Oliver, glad that the conversation had taken a new direction. "The Scottish pure-bloods and the English pure-bloods are two separate groups. Luckily, too, otherwise Draco Malfoy would probably be some distant cousin of mine, which is something I don't like to think about while I'm eating – "

"Oliver," Angelina interrupted. Her head was tilted back towards the ceiling. "Isn't that Ares?"

Oliver looked up to see his large gray owl circling overhead. Upon seeing that he was noticed, Ares swooped down and landed on the table.

"Odd to be getting a letter at dinner," commented Alicia.

"Probably from my mum, making sure I haven't taken another Bludger to the head," said Oliver. He untied the ribbon that bound the letter to Ares's leg and turned it over. Blue sealing wax had been stamped over the opening.

His heart jumped and suddenly the noise in the Great Hall seemed far away. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe and open it.

Hastily, he pried up the sealing wax and tore open the letter before he lost his nerve.

__

Dear Mr. Wood,

We are pleased to inform you that your try-out for the position of Keeper on the Puddlemere United Reserve Team will take place on July the second…

"Ol? Oliver, say something."

He set down the letter and looked up. "I've got a try-out with Puddlemere United," he said faintly. And then a large smile began to spread across his face.

Katie whooped; Alicia reached over and threw her arms around him; Angelina squealed. "Ol, you've done it!" she exclaimed. "You'll get on the team, I just know you will, I don't see why they wouldn't take you, there can't be anyone else who will be better – "

"Of _course_ they'll take him," said Katie, unable to stop grinning. "And we can all go watch him play over the holidays – "

"All right, all right," said Oliver, folding the letter back up and putting it in his pocket. He was wearing his lucky corduroys again – perhaps he would never take them off, if this was the sort of thing that would happen while he wore them. "I might not get in, you know."

"You will," said Alicia.

"I might not," Oliver said. "So I don't want you three to go telling everyone until I've got the job for certain."

"Oh, all right," said Angelina, who was obviously disappointed. 

Oliver took one last swig of milk and rose from his seat. "I'm going to go back up to the tower and owl my parents," he said. "I think my dad will be pleased."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On his way back to the Gryffindor Tower, he was unable to stop smiling. Oliver Wood, Keeper for Puddlemere United…Wood, Puddlemere's Reserve Keeper… "and Wood intercepts the Quaffle"…He was overcome by visions of himself in the Puddlemere blue robes, holding a brand-new Firebolt. The oldest team in the League and he, Oliver Wood, was about to become a part of it…if he got the job, of course. He reached back into his pocket to touch the letter again.

The common room was empty; everyone else was still at dinner, obviously. Oliver raced up the staircase to the boy's dormitories, ran down the corridor, and flung open the door to his room.

And tripped over two rather guilty-looking redheads.

"Hello Oliver," said Fred, standing up. "Back a bit early, aren't you?"

"What," gasped Oliver, catching his breath, "are you two doing in my room?"

"Waiting for Percy," said George, rubbing the place on his arm where Oliver's foot had hit. "He's been avoiding us all day, and we figured he was bound to come back here some time."

"I wouldn't count on it," said Oliver, glad that their trespassing involved his roommate and not himself. "He's been studying all night in the common room recently."

"Damn," said Fred. "We thought that waiting here was a sure bet."

Oliver sat down on his bed. "What do you want him for?"

"Actually, mate, we're not sure," said George. "But here's what we know: Penelope Clearwater's holed herself up in the girl's toilet since the end of the last class and all the Ravenclaw girls keep throwing us nasty looks. So we figure she and Perce have had a fight or something."

"Not that we'd normally care," added Fred, "but George fancies her roommate, and – "

"Shut up, Fred."

Ares flew in the open door and landed on Oliver's wardrobe. "Oh," said Oliver. He was anxious to write his letter. Besides, he didn't want anyone to know about the Puddlemre try-out, and the twins had an unfortunate talent when it came to prying out information. "Well, as you can see, he's not here. So – "

A high-pitched noise interrupted him, causing Fred and George to cover their ears. It was emitting from the wardrobe; Oliver stood up and opened the door. The source of the sound came from the top shelf; it was his Sneakoscope.

"So," said Oliver, once the noise had stopped. "Looking for Percy, are you? How about you two tell me what you're really doing in here."

"Just as we said," Fred protested. "Except…er…"

"We were bored, Ol, and….

"…there was this book…"

"WHAT BOOK?!"

From behind his back, George produced _Summer of Fire_.

Oliver sighed heavily and sat down on the bed.

"So," he said. "You know."

"Yeah," said George, looking a bit uncomfortable. "We probably should have seen it coming, though."

Oliver gave them an odd look. He'd never been very obvious.

"Yeah, we should have," said Fred. "I mean, we've had plenty of hints throughout the years."

Hints? Oliver tried desperately to think of one thing he might have done that would let them know he was gay. Nothing came to mind.

"Are…are you all right with it?" he asked.

"I guess," said George. "Doesn't look like we have much choice, anyway."

"I mean, he's our brother," said Fred. "We're stuck with him for life."

Oliver looked from Fred to George and back again, and comprehension dawned. "The book," he said slowly, "is _mine_…"

The twins looked at him dumbfounded. "Yours?"

"Yes, mine."

"_You're_ gay?"

"Yeah."

Fred started to laugh, snorting. "We thought for sure this was _Percy's_…"


	4. Part One, Chapter Four

Part One, Chapter Four

Percy's flushed face of three hours previous flashed across Oliver's mind.

"We were positively _convinced_ he was gay until he started dating Penelope," said George casually. "He's so…so…"

"Prissy," finished Fred.

"Oh, that makes him queer for certain," said Oliver, rolling his eyes. He himself had never actually met a gay man that fulfilled that particular stereotype.

"Come on, Ol, you know what we mean. I can just see him reading about – " George picked up _Summer of Fire_ " – 'François gasped at the sight of Michel's smooth, sculpted backside' – "

"Give it back," said Oliver, self-conscious. Having people know you were gay was one thing. Having them read aloud from the latest addition to your erotica collection was another.

"To tell you the truth," he said, hoping to get them out of his room as soon as possible, "Percy has always struck me as practically asexual. In fact, I don't think that I've ever seen Percy show any emotions beyond frustration, irritation, and smug satisfaction." Plus something that might be either discomfort or embarrassment, he added silently to himself.

"Sounds right to me," said Fred. He looked at his watch. "Well, dinner's nearly over. Perhaps we can find him in the common room." He and George left, closing the door behind them.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Oliver picked up a quill and wrote his letter home. The letter to Jean-Marc could wait until morning – he was quite tired, and he still had N.E.W.T. studying left to do.

As he attached the letter to Ares's leg, Oliver looked back on his choice to take seven N.E.W.T.s and wondered what he'd been thinking. Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, Astronomy, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Ancient Runes all looked as though they'd be as nastily exhausting as the name of the exams promised. Keeping options open, Oliver told himself. He was keeping his options open.

Quidditch was a difficult sport to break into professionally; despite what the Gryffindor Chasers thought, it was quite possible that Oliver wouldn't be drafted anywhere. Even if he managed to secure a position and played at his full potential, he'd be retired from the game by forty at the absolute latest. After that, no definite career plans came to mind. It was unwise to suppose that Quidditch would make him enough money to retire on, and besides, Oliver had too much energy to retire early. Coaching was always viable, but he didn't know if he could stand to instruct others in a game he could no longer play himself.

Opening the window, he released Ares and then sat down with _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven_. However, his eyes involuntarily shut at about the fifth line, and he realized that it was going to be impossible to stay awake. He'd spent the weeks before the Cup studying advanced defensive strategy at night, and now the hours of lost sleep had finally caught up to him. Deciding it would be best to get some rest sooner rather than later, Oliver shut the book and changed into his pajamas, grimacing as he did so. He wasn't particularly fond of his pajamas and he usually wore boxers to bed at home, but the unspoken dormitory etiquette prohibited him from doing this at school. After performing cleaning spells on his face and teeth, Oliver crawled into bed and was asleep within the minute.

He awakened to the sound of the door slamming and footsteps outside. Squinting, he sat up to see Percy leaning against the door, an exasperated look on his face.

"Hello," said Oliver groggily.

Percy looked at him, startled. "Oh, hello Oliver," he said, his voice surprised. "I didn't know that anyone else was in here."

"Yeah, couldn't stay awake. What's the noise?"

Percy let out a deep breath and pushed back a strand of hair. Oliver had never noticed his hands before; with their long, slender fingers, they looked as though they were carved from ivory. Percy's hair, however, had been observed by Oliver several times, as he envied it immensely. His own hair was brown, plain and straight, unremarkable and bland, in his opinion. Percy's thick red curls were, unlike those of the twins, closer to auburn than orange. The only thing that Oliver disliked about Percy's hair was the way he combed it: slicked down flat with a part on the left. It seemed like a defiance of nature and therefore both absurd and futile.

"Fred and George," said Percy. "If they spent half the time on academics that they spent on their pranks, they'd actually have above-average marks. However, they seem to have decided that their future lies in juvenile jokes and the pursuit of utterly pointless knowledge."

Prissy indeed.

Percy removed his glasses and began to polish them on his robe. If there was anything Oliver found more bizarre about Percy's appearance than the way he combed his hair, it was his glasses. The thick horn rims looked as though they should belong to a man of at least seventy, rather than seventeen. Oliver shuddered inwardly as Percy finished his polishing and put the glasses back on.

"Lane and Theo are in the library, and I expect they'll been there for some time yet," said Percy, referring to the other two boys who shared their room. "Would you mind if I studied in here?"

"No, go ahead," said Oliver. Over the Christmas holidays, the little girl next door had been teething, and after surviving a fortnight of screams Oliver had developed the ability to sleep through anything.

Percy took some books off his nightstand and sat down in the window seat. Cross-legged, open the thickest of the pile and stared intently at it, occasionally scribbling a few notes. Oliver watched from the corner of his eye.

Now that he thought about it, Percy really wasn't bad-looking. What had been gangliness their first year had now transformed into a tall and lithe physique. He also had absolutely flawless skin, unmarked except for a patch of small freckles across the bridge of his nose. If only he would do something about those horrible thick glasses…Percy's eyes, Oliver noticed for the first time, were light brown, framed by long curly copper lashes. They were actually very pretty.

It was unfortunate that Percy was straight and, well, Percy. He was surprisingly quite attractive.


	5. Part One, Chapter Five

Part One, Chapter Five

When Oliver woke again, the room was bright and he could hear voices speaking. "Oh, he's up at last," one of them said. "We thought you'd gone comatose, Oliver."

He sat up to see his roommates, Lane and Theo, sitting at the table working on the enormous puzzle they'd started at Easter. Both of them were dressed in Muggle clothes; it was Saturday, Oliver remembered. "What time is it?" he asked, his eyes still adjusting to the light.

"A couple minutes past one," said Theo. Half Japanese, he had light skin, dark hair, and sloping eyes. "You were out like a rock."

"Hungry?" asked Lane. Food was a large part of Lane's life; he was thickset and dark blond, with wide hands and a broad face.

Oliver shook his head. "Well I saved you a bit of lunch anyway," said Lane. He stared at the puzzle piece in his hand for a moment and then fitted it into the frame. "There were these great roast beef sandwiches."

Oliver pulled the cover back and set his feet on the floor. "I've got to spend the day studying for the damned N.E.W.T.s," he said, recalling the night before. "Seven of them."

"You must be mad," said Theo conversationally. "Better than poor old Perce, though…he's got ten."

"That can't be possible," said Oliver.

"He convinced Binns to let him independently study History of Magic," said Lane. "Probably learned more in one year on his own than I learned in five with Binns."

"Oh, about Percy," said Theo, fitting two pieces together, "be especially nice to him today. He and Penelope had a spectacular row over breakfast. Poor bloke was just sitting there eating his eggs, and she comes up and tells him he's the most selfish person to ever live."

Oliver let out a low whistle.

"She said he never paid attention to her anymore, and that all he cared about was studying and trying to impress everyone," Theo continued. "They haven't broken it off, though – she said that she still wanted to see him, but not until he could think of someone besides himself."

"Then he caught Fred and George about to set off Dungbombs in the common room," said Lane. "He Vanished the Dungbombs and said he'd like to Vanish the twins because their collective common sense wouldn't fill half an eggshell."

Oliver rolled his eyes and walked over to the wardrobe. Smart as he was, it seemed that Percy should have learned not to make such dramatic denouncements every time his temper reached the boiling point. But ever since they'd met, Percy had been like that: icily reserved until he snapped. Oliver grabbed a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He wanted a shower.

When he returned from the bathroom, Lane and Theo were still working on the puzzle. "Hey," Oliver said. "Do you suppose that I would borrow two pieces that fit together?"

"Oh no," said Theo. "He's going to try the Interlocking Charm again."

"I'll never forget the time he Interlocked the puzzle piece to Flitwick's head," said Lane.

"Shut up."

"Really, Ol, I think you improved upon him," said Theo. But he detached two pieces and handed them to Oliver.

Down in the common room, Oliver set the two pieces next to each other on top of a table and took out his wand. The trick to the Interlocking Charm was the precise way you held and moved your arm; Oliver remembered it in theory, but it had never worked for him in practice. He held his arm straight out and parallel to the floor.

"You need to relax your shoulder," said a familiar authoritative voice.

"I _am_," said Oliver, not turning his head.

"You aren't," said Percy. "It's all the way up by your chin and it needs to be next to your collarbone."

Oliver, not sure whether to be irritated or grateful, lowered his shoulder and straightened his arm again.

"And you always forget to put your little finger up over your fourth," said Percy. "I noticed that in class." Oliver finally looked at him; he was sitting to Oliver's left, on an armchair with some thick, antediluvian volume on his lap.

"I don't forget," said Oliver. "My little finger just doesn't bend that way."

"Then you need to move it with your other hand," said Percy, in an overly patient voice that indicated how obvious he thought this was. He set down the book, rose from his seat, and began to correct Oliver's hand.

"Percy, that hurts!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Percy, flushing a light pink. It really was amazing how often and easily he could blush…amazing and cute. So he had a girlfriend. It didn't mean Oliver couldn't find him attractive. "You're right, your finger really doesn't go that way at all. You'll need to train it."

Oliver snorted. "Train my _finger_?"

"Well, you train for Quidditch, don't you? You can do this."

Oliver smiled and laughed. "Percy, how much time do you spend on school?"

He had heard of people bristling before, but never actually seen it until now. "Perhaps you find it funny," said Percy coldly, his eyebrows narrowed, "but _I_ happen to think that it's – "

"Perce, I was just teasing!"

Percy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I had an argument this morning – "

"Yeah, I heard. Sorry, mate."

Percy looked up and smiled. "I admit that I spend most of my time on school," he said, "but it isn't the only thing I do. I play chess, I play the violin, I read mysteries – "

Oliver's eyes brightened. "Hey, so do I! I've got about fifty or sixty, got interested during fifth-year Muggle Studies – "

"So did I."

"My favorite is _The Emerald Cloak_," said Oliver, fully aware that he was about to start babbling at top speed. "I've read it about three – what is it?"

Percy was staring at him in awe. "Oliver," he said slowly, "you own a copy of _The Emerald Cloak_?"

"Well, yeah," said Oliver, confused. "My mum found it at someone's yard sale."

Percy's eyes were wide. "_The Emerald Cloak_," he said, "it only one of the rarest mysteries in the world. There are hardly any mysteries written by wizards, and it was the first. Ever. There are maybe six copies left."

"And to think I almost lost it on the train once," said Oliver, grinning sheepishly.

Thus the friendship of Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley began.


	6. Part One, Chapter Six

Part One, Chapter Six

"…but it wasn't really _pale_ blue, it was more of a _gray_-blue, and I just _know_ Snape took marks off," said Percy for the eighth time. He began to chew on a fresh fingernail. The first day of N.E.W.T.s were over, and Percy's roommates had been forced to suffer his lamentations for the last half hour.

"Perce, it's all right," said Oliver, who was about ready to put a Silencing Charm on his friend. It wasn't as though Percy really had anything to worry about. "And stop biting your nails, you'll draw blood if you aren't careful."

"I added the foxglove extract too late, I was supposed to wait three minutes but some of the extract spilled so it ended up being three minutes and – "

"Nineteen seconds," finished Theo, looking thoroughly irritated. "Your world is at an end. Your future is destroyed. The Ministry will never hire you as a _janitor_, and your mother will cry floods. You might as well just crawl into a hole and wait to die."

"And Snape glared at me when – "

"He glares at all the Gryffindors, in case you haven't noticed," said Lane, rolling onto his back with an exasperated sigh. "Someone as smart as you should have – " Oliver shot him a look and he stopped.

"I don't know what you're going on about, Perce, we all know you've never gotten anything below Exceeds Expectations on an exam," said Theo. "Now _please_ sit down and be quiet."

"The whole lot of you be quiet," said Oliver, who was beginning to get a headache. He didn't think that his Ancient Runes exam had gone well, and he was in no mood to take the Transfiguration and Muggle Studies tests the next day. "You're all grating on my nerves." He reached under his bed, took out the latest letter from Jean-Marc, and read it again.

__

Dear Oliver,

Ah, a redhead. I have always been partial to red-haired men. (Don't tell Louis!) There was a boy in my class at Beauxbatons that reminds me of your Percy; his name was Phillipe, and he left the library only to eat, sleep, and shout at noisemakers in the corridor. I saw him gyrating against a handsome blond at the discothèque last weekend. Some boys are like that. They are scared of who they are, so they retreat from others and put up walls to keep them out. I may be wrong; the fact that Percy did not show off his girlfriend at first indicates that maybe I am. (So many closeted boys do this with women.) But it sounds to me like your redhead is afraid of something.

I am pleased to hear that you liked Summer of Fire. It was the second erotic novel that I published, and although there are a few things I wish I had written differently (the scene on the metro, for one), I was very satisfied with it.

Do you remember Martin? (Black curls, short nose, birthmark on his neck, offered to set you up with his former boyfriend.) He and Luc are now lovers. I hope it does not hurt you to hear this. I mentioned Percy to Luc, a little, I hope you do not mind. He says best of luck, and that the freckles sound sexy.

Delphine, I am sorry to say, left Anne when she was transferred to Nice. I am quite angry with her.

I hope that you do well on your exams…and best of luck with Puddlemere United! If you make it I will come to see your first match.

Jean-Marc

He wasn't angry at Luc; they had agreed from the beginning that they would date for the summer only, until Oliver went home to Scotland. It just felt odd to think of him with someone else, especially a twenty-three year old. His former boyfriend now had a lover, whereas Oliver hadn't had a date since August. Of course he'd been busy with Quidditch and he wasn't out at Hogwarts, but…still.

Across the room, Percy was still biting his nails.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So one minute you say I'm grating on your nerves, and the next you want to go to dinner in Hogsmeade."

"That's exactly right."

"I have to study for History of Magic."

"You know that stuff like the back of your hand, you didn't miss a thing when I quizzed you last Thursday. Food is good for the brain. Come on, our year's got open campus until the end of term."

Percy glanced at the clock, then back at Oliver. "Oh, all right. Give me five minutes to change my clothes."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oliver wondered if perhaps his luck was with him, because at then end of the five minutes Percy looked _good_. He'd put on a black oxford shirt that was, to Oliver's great surprise, _not_ buttoned up to the top and _not_ tucked in. The black creased trousers had been replaced by well-worn dark gray jeans; unfortunately, the black polished shoes remained. But overall, the change was an unexpected pleasantness. If only Percy had switched clothes in their room and not the bathroom…

__

Stop it, Oliver told himself. _He's dating Penelope and is therefore straight…or bi, but taken nonetheless. You haven't got a chance._

Ah, said another part of his mind, _if you completely believed that, you wouldn't have asked him to dinner_.

"Ready?" Oliver asked. He'd taken off his robe and kept the red t-shirt and jeans that had been underneath.

"Yes, I am."

"All right. Should we walk or fly?"

A look of sheer terror crossed Percy's face. "I can't fly at all. The last time I tried I fell off and ended up with an concussion."

That was the sort of statement that usually prompted a sarcastic retort from Lane, but he was silent. Oliver glanced over at him; his roommate's eyes stared unmoving at his Transfiguration book.

"And when was that?"

Percy bit his lip and looked a little embarrassed. "The summer after second year."

"So we'll both go on mine," said Oliver, taking a risk. "You can hang on to my waist."

From the corner of his eye he saw Theo and Lane exchange looks.

"All right."

"You will?" He tried to breathe more slowly so that his heart would slow to its normal pace.

"Yes." Percy actually smiled; he had nice teeth.

"Then let's go," said Oliver. As he closed the door behind them, he saw Lane and Theo twitching their eyebrows and giving him large and quite obvious winks. He shut the door quickly before Percy noticed.


	7. Part One, Chapter Seven

Part One, Chapter Seven

Another boy might have stopped at that point and realized that the whole situation was growing more and more complicated by the minute. This other boy might have envisioned a friendship ended just as abruptly as it had begun, a silent roommate, whispers in the corridors, a teary and livid Penelope. Another boy might have reflected and seen that there was the slightest of chances for both Percy and Oliver to have what they wanted. But if there was one thing Oliver's Quidditch training had taught him, it was that rational thinking was no good in times of risk and daring. You either dove for the Quaffle or you hung back. If you never took the chance, you had nothing. If you left sensibility behind and did what your instinct told you to do, there was always the possibility of triumph. And right now Oliver's instinct was enjoying the feel of Percy's chest pressed against his back.

"Is your stomach any better?" he asked.

"A bit," came the nervous voice from behind.

"Well, we're almost there," said Oliver, pointing to the red roof of the Three Broomsticks. "You'll be safe on the ground in another minute, and after dinner we can walk back to school if you like. Except if you want to steer the broom – " He turned his head in time to see Percy blanch. "That was a joke, Perce."

"I know," said Percy, sounding as if he hadn't.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with customers; there were still hours left until sunset, when the dementors would roam the streets. Oliver and Percy got one of two remaining empty tables, back in a far corner.

"I'm paying," said Oliver as they sat down.

Percy's ears went red, and Oliver remembered (too late) that money was a sensitive subject with him. "You aren't," he said stiffly. "I insist upon – "

"_I_ insist upon paying for guests, which you are, seeing as the whole thing was my idea. Besides, it's a rule in my family. You wouldn't want me to break a rule, would you?"

Percy scowled, and Oliver knew he had won.

"Oh hey," said Oliver, after the waitress had come and gone, "watch this." He lifted his hand and, in one swift gesture, put his little finger up over his fourth.

"I knew you could do it," said Percy, smiling a little. "I used to play the piano, and it's amazing how your fingers can twist if they need to."

"But you play the violin now," said Oliver, remembering their conversation in the common room.

"Yes, quite badly. When I was young, my mother used to insist that every member in the family had to play an instrument for at least one year. Bill and Charlie served their year and then quit, but I decided that I was going to learn how to play the piano. Every afternoon I would – am I boring you?"

"Not a bit," said Oliver. Percy could have been droning about eighteenth-century potion discoveries, and Oliver would have let him keep talking just to see that delicious mouth move. Not that he wasn't listening; as an only child, hearing about other people's siblings always intrigued him.

"Every afternoon, I would sit down at the piano and keep playing until my back hurt and my fingers felt sore. Eventually my mother made me quit because Ginny – she was around two years old at the time – started crying every time I played."

"That bad?" asked Oliver, impressed.

"Yes, it was quite horrible. The violin wasn't much better, but at least I could take it out into the garden."

"So you have a flaw after all," said Oliver, grinning. The minute the words left his mouth he knew they had been a mistake. Percy's face shifted into a hardened expression. "God, Percy, I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. I was trying to be teasing and I guess I wasn't."

"Oh, it isn't your fault," said Percy, sighing. "The rest of my family claims I was born without a sense of humor, and they're probably right."

"No, I'm sure they aren't," said Oliver, his voice firm. "It's probably just different than theirs." Percy didn't look convinced, but Oliver decided to let it pass. "Here, I'll make a deal with you. I'll stop teasing if you keep relaxing and not thinking about exams."

"All right," said Percy, and extended his hand. Oliver took it; it felt almost fragile in his own, and he squeezed only lightly. As soon as they let go, the waitress returned with fish and chips (Oliver's) and an enormous bowl of soup (Percy's), along with two bottles of butterbeer. 

"So," said Percy, after a few spoonfuls of soup, "what did you do when you were young?" He was trying to make conversation, Oliver realized.

"Well, when I was really little, I basically ran around and drove my mum mad," he said. "Then when I was around six or so, a family moved in next door with triplets who were a year older than me."

"Triplets," said Percy, shuddering. "Twins are bad enough."

"They weren't much like Fred and George," said Oliver. "Paul was shy; he didn't play with us most of the time. Ian and Agnes, though, they were the wild ones. We used to pretend we were pirates – we built a little ship in their garden – and Ian always had to walk the plank because he was the skinniest and we could carry him there if he didn't want to."

"Oh, _that_ was fair."

"Well, he wanted to most of the time."

Percy rolled his eyes and took a sip of butterbeer. "Well, we've found out another thing we have in common," he said. "When we were younger, both our mothers rejoiced when we left the house."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As they walked back along the road to Hogwarts (it was on the east side of the castle, and avoided both the forest and the lake), the sun was setting overhead. Whenever its light hit Percy's hair the right way, strands of gold appeared, highlights that were usually hidden in the relative darkness of the castle. _Red and gold,_ Oliver thought. _A true Gryffindor._

"Perce," he said suddenly, "what do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"

"Go into the Ministry. My goal is to be Minister by the time I'm forty."

Oliver wasn't surprised.

"What do you want to do?" Percy asked. "No, don't answer, I'll guess. Play Quidditch."

"Yeah." _Take the dive_, he thought. "I've got a try-out with Puddlemere United scheduled already, for July. I'm nervous as hell, though."

"Don't be. You'll get on a team."

"I might not."

"You will. You're the sort of person who keeps going until you've done what you decided to do."

__

I hope so, thought Oliver, his eyes resting on the gentle curve of Percy's neck.


	8. Part One, Chapter Eight

Part One, Chapter Eight

When they returned back, Percy immediately departed for the library; he wanted to check a few details in one of the encyclopedias, he said. Oliver went back to their room.

He turned the knob but the door refused to budge. Lane and Theo wouldn't be asleep yet, he thought. Puzzled, he knocked and waited for an answer.

"Who is it?" said a muffled voice. Oliver couldn't distinguish who it was.

"Oliver. Let me in."

"Is Percy with you?" asked a second voice. It sounded much like the first, but half an octave lower.

"Lane? Is that you? Let me in!"

"Go ahead and open the door," commanded a third voice that unmistakably belonged to Theo. Oliver heard the key being turned in the lock and then the door swung open.

Theo was sitting at the table, and didn't raise his head. Lane was sitting in the window sill, flanked by – Oliver groaned – Fred and George.

"I'll have you know that I had nothing to do with it," said Theo hastily, still refusing to meet Oliver's piercing stare. "Lane brought them here, and I wish they'd get out so I can go back to work undisturbed."

Oliver took a deep breath, closed the door, and sat down on his bed. "You have five minutes to tell me what you are doing in here," he said, his voice hovering on the edge of a shout. "In those five minutes, I want you to explain why the door was locked and why you feel that you have the right to come into my room whenever you damn well please."

"Lane invited us," said George stubbornly. "That's hardly fair."

Oliver's head snapped in the direction of the window. "I have several exams to study for," he hissed. "My muscles are still sore from the last Quidditch match. I am tired, I am under stress, and I am about ready to wring your necks. So far you have wasted approximately fifteen seconds. Start talking."

"Well, it's like this," said Fred, apparently unfazed. "Since our discovery that you fly for the other team – "

"He means that – "

"I KNOW WHAT HE MEANS!"

"Yes, well, anyway. Since this discovery, it's come to our attention that you – "

"Oh, stop it with the formal language," Oliver snapped. 

George took up where his twin had left off. "It looks to us like you fancy Percy, and we think that you ought to leave him alone for your own sake."

Oliver looked at both of them directly; they didn't flinch. "I don't see why it's any of your business," he said slowly. 

"He's our brother and you're our team-mate," said George. "Look, Ol, I know that you've roomed with him for seven years, but you don't know what he's like. There isn't anyone who could be less like you."

"And how would you know? You never talk to him, you just harass him to amuse yourselves."

"Oliver," said Fred, "look, he doesn't care about anyone but himself and what's best for him. Even if he is gay, he's wrong for you. We've lived with him our whole lives, we know what we're talking about. You can't possibly know him as well as we do."

Oliver took a moment to control his temper. "I don't know him that well," he said, "but I want to."

"No, Ol, you don't! Maybe you think he's got some sort of hidden good side, but he doesn't. He's a boring, pompous ass and you deserve better."

Oliver glared at George. "You don't care about me, or him either. You just want him to stay with Penelope so you can go out with her roommate."

"Who, Celia? She took up with some Hufflepuff bloke a few days ago."

"And besides, we'd rather he wasn't with Penelope," said Fred. "She's not a bad sort. Cares a bit too much about homework, but nice enough."

"Oh, _you'd rather_," said Oliver sarcastically. "Because Percy's life, and my life, are under your control. How could I forget?"

"Look," said Fred sharply. "We're only trying to help. If you don't want it, fine. Excuse us for being concerned about you."

Theo set down his book with a thump that startled them all. "All right, Ol's heard your side," he said. "How about you hear his? And then get out."

"Yeah, I'm interested to hear what Oliver sees in Percy," said Lane, speaking for the first time since Oliver entered the room.

"And what is it to you?" Oliver growled. "Why in the hell did you let them in?"

"Because I don't think you ought to be with Percy either," said Lane obstinately. "I mean, if you've got thirty-five percent of the wizarding world to choose from, why would you want _him_?"

"Because he can be encouraging when he wants to be," said Oliver. The thought of Percy's hands on his in the common room subdued his anger. "He can get frustrated, but I think…I think maybe it's because no one listens to him. We had a nice dinner. It was fun."

"Fun?" exclaimed Lane, but a look from Theo shut him up.

"We both like murder mysteries," Oliver continued, "and we both – we both understand about goals and ambition and stuff. I know it isn't much," he added hastily, "but it's enough that I'm curious to find out more."

"But he's still _Percy_," said George.

"And he's bloody handsome, in case you haven't noticed. He tries to hide it, but you can tell if you take a few extra seconds to look. He's got gorgeous hair, nice eyes…" Oh, what the hell, he'd say it. "…and an extremely cute arse."

"Great," Fred groaned. "He just wants to shag him."

"GODDAMN IT!" Oliver roared. "I DO NOT JUST WANT TO SHAG HIM!"

There was a silence. The twins looked at each other; Theo looked at his book; Lane stared at the floor; Oliver glared at the ceiling.

A noise from across the room turned all their heads to the door. It opened. 

Percy stuck his head in, his ears red and his face pink. "Be quiet," he said, his voice nervous and unsteady. "I can hear you all the way down in the common room."

With a shaky breath, he closed the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dear Jean-Marc,

Remember Percy? Well, the long and short of it is that his brothers told me I ought to leave him alone, then accused me of just wanting to shag him. I screamed that that wasn't just what I wanted. Then Percy opened the door and told us to be quiet…I have no idea how much he heard. The last part about "I don't just want to shag him," obviously…but does he know I was talking about him? He knows I'm queer, at any rate. He's been polite but distant ever since, and spends most of his time away from the room.

At least his brothers have apologized to me. They're Quidditch mates of mine, so I'm glad things aren't ending on a bad note between us.

Exams are all over, and we're just waiting around school until the results come in. Two more days, and then I leave Hogwarts forever. I'm going to miss it incredibly.

Tell Louis I said hello, and tell Luc "no hard feelings" and good luck with Martin. Yes, I remember Martin; architect, wasn't he? Hope that Delphine comes to her senses.

Hope your writing is going well too.

Oliver.

P.S. I also have an incredibly long story to tell you concerning one of my favorite teachers, an escaped convict, and the Gryffindor Seeker, but I think I'll save it for some other time.


	9. Part One, Chapter Nine

Part One, Chapter Nine

"You aren't supposed to be here, Oliver."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Well, of course I'm not, but there's only a few hours left until we leave school for good and I thought I'd see what was so wonderful about the famous prefects' bathroom." So, Percy was deciding to talk to him at last.

Percy sighed and leaned against the door frame. "We did win the House Cup, so I don't suppose any harm can come of it." He took his hand off the door handle and walked over to the benches, where he sat down and began to undo his tie.

Oliver was already in the tub, covered to the shoulders by bright blue bubbles. He sat on an underwater bench across the room from Percy, and he was determined to stay there. He'd left the common room celebrations early, wanting to take some time to think, and he'd come to the conclusion that he ought to leave Percy alone, before he embarrassed himself any further. He'd asked for a friend and Percy had given him a friend, but what Oliver had really wanted was a lover, and this Percy was unwilling to provide. Despite his vow, Oliver was still powerfully attracted to the other young man; as Percy unbuttoned his shirt to expose a pale chest covered with soft-looking red hair, Oliver could feel himself stiffening in arousal. They wanted two different things, and could not continue as they had been. So Oliver decided he would say goodbye to Percy in the morning, and that would be the end. Their lives would move on and perhaps Oliver would find someone else, someone who shared his desires. When Percy's fingers began to undo his trouser button, Oliver forced himself to look at the portrait of the sleeping mermaid on the wall until he heard a splash.

"I hope N.E.W.T.s went well for you," said Percy from the other side of the tub. He had left his glasses by the edge of the tub atop his neatly folded clothes. His wet hair popped up in shiny, lustrous curls.

"Yeah. Two Outstanding, four Exceeds Expectations, and one Acceptable." He didn't ask Percy about his own exams, knowing from Fred and George that their brother had achieved Outstanding on all ten.

"Congratulations." Percy flicked a stray curl off his forehead. "So, where are you off to in the morning?"

"A flat in Edinburgh," said Oliver. "On Allerby Lane…it's a wizarding street off of the Royal Mile. You?"

"Home with the rest of my family. I haven't the money to move out."

"Oh, I wouldn't have either," said Oliver hastily, "but I managed to earn some money working for my uncle the summer after fifth year. Didn't spend any, so it's been sitting in Gringotts gathering interest for two years. It ought to be enough for a few months, until I get a job."

"When is your try-out for Puddlemere United again?"

"The second of July," Oliver said. "I heard you were going to the Ministry."

"Department of International Magical Cooperation, yes."

"My grandfather on my mum's side used to work there," commented Oliver. "He was in charge of relations with France."

He couldn't think of anything else to say after that, and apparently Percy couldn't either. "How's Penelope?" Oliver asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I wouldn't know," said Percy quietly. His face was solemn but devoid of all other expression. "We broke things off two days ago."

"I'm sorry, Perce," said Oliver, meaning it.

"I don't know if I am." He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked up at Oliver. "Oliver, may I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," said Oliver, his stomach beginning to churn unpleasantly and his erection softening.

Percy took an audible deep breath. "Oliver, the night we went to dinner at Hogsmeade, and then afterwards I told you and everyone else in the dormitory to be quiet?" Oliver nodded. "I didn't hear everything you were saying, but it sounded as if you were arguing with the others about someone you fancied." Oliver nodded once more, his breath slow and shallow. "Who was it?"

"Who do you think it was?"

"I'm not sure," said Percy, his voice unsteady. His eyes were blinking rapidly. "I – oh damn, this is stupid, but I thought perhaps it might have been me."

__

Dive. "Percy – you're – you're absolutely right, I think you're, well, fascinating. Do you realize that I have never known anyone else who intrigues me more than you do? We haven't been friends long, and I fully admit that I – "

Percy stood up.

" – fancy you, and I think you're gorgeous, and – "

Percy began to walk across the tub.

" – sexy as hell, and I know I'm going on like a blithering idiot, but I wasn't honest with you – "

Percy sat down beside him.

" – and I completely understand that you don't feel the same way, but – "

"Oliver," Percy whispered. His voice was commanding and sultry. "Shut up."

His lips captured Oliver's like a pouncing animal conquering its prey, fast and intense. Oliver whimpered, surprised yet instantly enraptured. He felt Percy's tongue slide over his and, in one swift gesture, Percy straddled him.

"Oh God, Perce," Oliver moaned as Percy sucked on his neck. "Oh God…"

"I'm not usually like this," Percy whispered, his breath hot against Oliver's ear. "Just for you."

Oliver shuddered as Percy pressed hard against him, allowing him to feel every sweet warm inch of tender skin. He closed his eyes and Percy tipped his head back, gently biting his throat. Hungry for more, Oliver slid his hands around Percy's buttocks and gripped.

"Don't stop," Percy gasped. His fingers grasped at Oliver's nipples, pinching hard. "God, Ol, don't stop!"

They fell into a rhythm, undulating together, hands roaming greedily under the water. Tongues thrust, hands stroked, for minute upon blissful minute. 

Suddenly Oliver let out a small, strangled scream. Percy's fingers were digging into his shoulders and his breathing was coming in hard, choking gasps. "Oliver!" he screamed. With a start, Oliver realized Percy was climaxing. He let Percy thrust against him so hard it almost hurt.

"Oliver – Ol – yes – " He wailed once more and then his body relaxed. Slowly he slid off of Oliver, trying to catch his breath,

"Perce," Oliver whispered. "Percy, I'm still – "

Percy sighed. "I'm sorry, Ol, I'm so tired. You wore me out."

Oliver stood up slowly, disappointed but sympathetic. "So."

"So," said Percy. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were deliciously rosy.

Oliver slid one hand through Percy's hair. "You tease."

"Don't worry," said Percy, his voice seductive. He took a step closer to Oliver and placed one hand on the small of his back. "In a few days I'll come to Edinburgh and make you the happiest man alive."


	10. Part Two, Chapter One

Part Two, Chapter One

"In light of Lord – of You-Know-Who's return, the entire Ministry will have extended hours from now on," said Cornelius Fudge. In one hand his was his bowler hat, which he kept twisting compulsively. Percy stared at it until he couldn't any longer. "We will not disband any of the less crucial departments, for we fell that it is essential for the wizarding world to maintain our way of life. However, employees of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Official Gobstones Club, Ludicrous Patents Office, and the Pest Advisory Bureau will reduce their hours, using the spare time to aide in the struggle against – against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Memos have been sent to all departments, stating more specifics." Fudge paused. His face was ashen and dark circles lay beneath his eyes. His tie was crumpled, something Percy knew the Minister would never have allowed under normal circumstances. "We have no time to spare. Due to the change in schedule, however, and the seriousness of the – the circumstances, we realize that you all may wish to contact your families. It is now half past seven o'clock; you are all expected to begin work in thirty minutes. This meeting is dismissed."

Percy watched unblinkingly as the rest of the hall filed out. Some were crying, some murmured in hushed tones, others walked briskly, with blank and stoic expressions on their faces. He closed his eyes until the heard the last door shut and the hall was silent.

He had no one to speak to, but the memories in his head refused to be silent.

"Percy, love, I really think that you ought to take a rest. Professor McGonagall assigned two feet and I'm sure she'll be very pleased that you wrote three and a half, but look at the sky! It's a gorgeous day outside, why don't you go out in the garden for a bit? Bill and Charlie haven't seen you in nine months, I'm sure they want to hear all about your first year at Hogwarts. Well, all right dear, but only five more minutes, and that's all."

"Perce, do you remember when we went swimming in the lake? It was right after the last O.W.L., remember? We had those sandwiches on the bank. That's all I want, just some time with you. I never see you anymore except in class, and I miss you. Well, I need things too, how can you say you love me and then not speak to me for three days? Come on, my roommates have all gone to Hogsmeade, we could have some time to – oh, never mind. That's what you always say."

"Percy, get out. No. _Get out._ Why? Well, let's just _think_, shall we? Maybe this is just me, but I can't understand how you can let someone bring you off one minute and then ignore him the next. No you won't, you've been saying that for a month, and you won't even touch me except when _you_ want to. I'm not your goddamned whore. Well, then what do you want from me, I really want to know, Perce, what _do_ you want from me? I saw you in Diagon Alley four days ago, I called out to you but you didn't turn around. It was loud, I told myself, he didn't hear you, but you did, didn't you? No, Percy, people are one of the most important things in life, but you'll never understand that, will you? I should have listened to Fred and George. Do you remember when you said you didn't deserve me? That's just about the only honest thing you've ever told me. Go fuck yourself. Apparently that's the only person you care about."

His mother's eyes: wide, hopeful, encouraging. Penelope's eyes: hurt, vulnerable, confused. Oliver's eyes: wounded, angry, burning.

The muffled laughter hadn't mattered, nor had the late hours or the fights or the responsibility, because Percy had always known that he was right. Some things had to be sacrificed if you wanted to succeed. The belief that everyone would see the merit of his ways in the end had sustained him.

And he had been wrong all along. 

He'd ignored Penelope, treated Oliver like a sexual plaything, and told his parents he didn't want to be their son. Now the end was coming, and he was alone. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A sobbing gasp startled him, causing his head to whip around. The door burst open and – had his memories materialized? – his mother ran in, her hair wildly tangled and her jumper on backwards. Without thinking, he rose from his seat and stepped into the aisle.

She ran straight at him and grasped him around the middle, her arms squeezing the air from his lungs. "I don't care what you say, you're coming with me!" she wailed. Her fingers dug into his back. "I could have been at the Department of Mysteries, I could have been the one who died – oh Percy, why did you do this to us?!" Being much shorter than her son, her head was buried in his chest.

"Mum," he whispered, and touched her hair with a trembling hand.


	11. Part Two, Chapter Two

Part Two, Chapter Two

They held each other for a long time until at last Molly looked up at her son, her eyes pink and wide.

"I always thought I didn't need to worry about you,' she said softly. "You were always old for your age, responsible, got excellent marks…it bothered me a bit that you spent so much time alone, but I figured that it was minor compared to the things your brothers got themselves into. You never wanted any help and after a while I stopped asking."

He didn't know what to say.

"We've never really been close," she said. "When you were little I didn't quite know what to make of you, you were always so reserved, not a bit like your father or me in that respect. And then the twins were born…"

"You were busy," he said.

She pulled him close again. "I feel almost as though I've never really known you. The night you left…I hadn't the faintest idea you thought any of those things, it never entered my mind…"

"It's all right, Mum," he said. He wasn't used to seeing her cry over him and it made him uneasy.

"I know you're an adult," she said. "I know you'll be twenty in a few weeks, but – I asked Fudge to give you two weeks' holiday."

His mouth dropped open. She must be mad. "_Now_? But – but You-Know-Who, the Ministry needs – "

"And I need you home," said his mother. "The Ministry can last for two weeks without you, they've had an influx of applications since the official announcement about You-Know-Who."

"That was only three days ago," he said. It shocked him that the Ministry hadn't sprung into action at the news; they'd walked about in shock for a while, going about their usual tasks while their eyes looked dead. 

"Nevertheless. Alexandra Whitmoth is going to fill in for you; you'd have gotten a memo about it if you'd gone back to your office."

"And Fudge agreed to this?"

"I think I might have scared him a bit," said Molly. She looked down at her jumper and grimaced. "I look a mess, don't I."

He couldn't even begin to think of what he'd do for two weeks. An entire two weeks at home with his family, with no work…the unknown put a feeling of sick dread in his stomach.

"Where will I sleep? What about my flat, my clothes, my mail – "

To his surprise, his mother reached up and cupped the side of his face with her hand. "Don't worry about a thing. Let me take care of you, Percy – I want to do this."

"All right," he said after a moment, the words seeming alien to his tongue.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They apparated to the Burrow's kitchen. At the table sat a young red-haired woman, eating a box of Every Flavor Beans; a yellow one was between her fingers. She looked up at him, her expression somewhere between scared and shy. "Hello, Percy."

It couldn't be – "Ginny?"

His baby sister had grown up. Her face had lost its child plumpness, and she was at least three inches taller. Her hair – the same hair Percy used to braid for her when they were very young – brushed just below her chin. There was a heaviness to her eyes he hadn't remembered.

"I didn't know if you'd come home," she said awkwardly.

He moistened his lips. "Well. I did."

"And he's not to do a bit of work while he's home," said their mother, picking up some books from the table. "You can have your old room back, Percy, there's plenty of room now that the twins have moved out."

They had? "Already?"

"Well, there's room about their shop, enough so that Charlie's staying with them. He's home from Romania for a month, did I mention that?" She tidied up the kitchen as she spoke, putting plates in the sink and regrouping the spice canisters.

So his brothers had finally gotten their long-awaited joke shop. A lucky thing, too – Percy had heard about how they hadn't graduated from Hogwarts. In his opinion, they ought to have waited out the few remaining months; even Marcus Flint had managed to graduate eventually.

"I must say, they've done quite well," said Molly. "George tells me that their daily profit averages around one hundred Galleons. Perhaps it's not the most intellectual of careers, but it suits them."

The damned prats were making more money than he was.

"Oh, Mum, Ron says to tell you that he isn't coming home for dinner," said Ginny, who was now separating the green Every Flavor Beans into a pile. "He's eating at Harry's."

"Harry lives with Muggles," said Percy.

"Some of the Order had a, er, _discussion_ with his uncle," said Ginny, biting her lip to restrain a smile. "Don't know what they all said, but Moody was there, so I'm guessing that it was short, intense, and terrifying."

Percy's mother's mind was still on dinner. "So without Ron that leaves me, Bill, Charlie, you two, and your father. Percy, sit down, you're making me nervous."

He took the seat next to Ginny, who was chewing thoughtfully. "Not Fleur?" she asked.

"Your brother, thank heavens, has broken things off with her," said their mother. "Percy did you have breakfast?"

"Yes."

"He hasn't," said Ginny. "If his idea of breakfast is the same as it was when he was in school, he had three cups of black coffee with a side order of fingernails." She picked up Percy's hand and examined it. "Yep, looks like I was right."

"_Accio_ Eggs!" cried their mother.

"Mum, it's fine, really, I don't need – "

"Percy Ignatius Weasley, you are having a decent meal and that is final!"

Ginny snorted. "Ignatius…"

"Hortensia," he retorted.

"That's enough, you two," said Molly, but she looked pleased. The eggs cracked themselves over the pan as she summoned the bread. "Bill finally came to his senses about that girl," she continued. As she pointed her wand Percy's breakfast continued to make itself, the fire crackling and the orange juice pouring into glasses. "I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did, they never had anything in common."

"Except that they both turned heads everywhere they went," Ginny added.

"Who does, us?" said a voice from across the room.

To his dismay, Percy turned his head to see Fred and George stepping out of the fireplace. "Oh, and she's made us a second breakfast too," said Fred. He noticed Percy and his cheerful manner vanished. "So. You're home."

Percy could feel his palms begin to sweat. "Yes."

"Finally decided Dad's not a lazy nutter?" asked George acidly. "Or did Fudge sack you now that he can't use you to – "

"George!" exclaimed their mother. Her cheeks were flushed and Percy could see the familiar dangerous spark in her eye. "Don't speak to him like that."

"Why not, he speaks to the rest of us any way he damn well pleases," said Fred. "Oh, I forgot, Percy's always gotten his own set of rules because he's too superior."

Percy leapt from his seat. "That's not true," he said at once.

"Oh, isn't it," Fred sneered. An ugly look had come over his face. "If we'd said half the things he said to Dad, we wouldn't have been taken back in a second because we're only the skiving, irresponsible – "

"That isn't true and it isn't fair!" cried their mother, but the twins weren't listening.

"I can't believe she took you back," said George. His voice was calmer than Fred's but it held no less venom. "You couldn't even be bothered to visit Dad when he was in St. Mungo's."

"I nearly did," Percy whispered.

"Yes, well, that did him a load of good, didn't it."

The smack of the frying pan caused them all to jump. "Fred, George," said their mother through clenched teeth, "I think it would be best for all of us if you got what you came for and then left."

Fred turned to Ginny. "Has Dean finished the logo yet?"

"He says he needs another day," said Ginny in a small voice.

George picked up a pinch of Floo powder from the mantle and tossed it into the fire. "Well, I'm off then," he said, stepping into the green flame. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." And he was gone.

Fred stared at Percy. "I saw Oliver Wood today," he said stoically. "I told him we weren't speaking, but he gave me a message to deliver anyway. He wants to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible. Why he'd want anything to do with you, I can't imagine." He too stepped into the fireplace. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

The second he disappeared, the smell of something burning wafted through the room. A flaming egg hovered just about the stove.

Ginny let out a shuddery cry. "I wish something could go right around here for once!" she cried, and raced out the door and up the stairs.

Slowly, Percy scooped up the scattered Every Flavor Beans. If things continued at the rate they were going, his idea of breakfast would soon include vodka.


	12. Part Two, Chapter Three

Part Two, Chapter Three

Oliver,

Fred gave me your message. My schedule is open, so I can meet you at whatever time you arrange.

Percy

Percy,

Today, two o'clock, the Leaky Cauldron.

Oliver

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After half an hour of muffled sobs, Ginny had come back downstairs. From his bedroom window, Percy could see her de-gnoming the garden. She hurled each gnome particularly hard.

Percy looked in the mirror one more time. He was wearing dark green robes, now three years old but seldom worn. They had been a gift from Penelope.

He'd noticed her for the first time in fourth-year Transfiguration. She'd sat in front of him, her curtain of long coiled hair brushing the top of his desk. He'd spent the year watching it, one part of his brain listening to Professor McGonagall while the other stared absorbed in the wonder of each curly strand.

On the first day of fifth year, Penelope had turned up again in Potions. At the first Inter-House Prefects' Meeting, she'd arrived a minute late, slipping in the back and taking the seat next to Percy.

They'd been assigned to decorate the third-floor south corridor together at Christmas. Both competitive by nature, they'd come to the mutual decision that their corridor would far surpass the others. He held the tinsel while she, not trusting her wand to achieve precision, stood on the ladder and hung it.

Both were pleased by what they could accomplish together, and they teamed up again after the holidays, becoming partners in Potions. But the relationship had remained strictly business until the day she tripped on the table leg and spilled Dissolving Solution down the front of his robes.

As Snape screamed about irresponsibility and half-witted students who should never be allowed within thirty feet of a cauldron, the solution started burning holes into the fabric. Penelope looked at the patches of exposed chest and blushed.

He'd written to her nearly every day in the summer, and they'd gone into their sixth year far closer than before. He was giddy around her, giddy and relaxed for the first time he could remember. She was energized with a zest he had never encountered before. The same things that frustrated him made her laugh, a breathy giggle that caused his head to spin.

They were in different houses, and their classes and meetings together gave them no time to be alone. When she suggested that they meet in the Charms classroom at night he nodded, unable to speak.

The first night he found her there, she grabbed him and pressed him against the wall, her hips pressed lightly against his, just enough to make him gasp. He'd plunged his fingers into her hair as she kissed him.

Paying attention in classes became more difficult every day. A part of him always remained in the dark of the empty classroom, sliding his hands down her body as she moaned.

"Penny," he'd whispered one night. They were in the Charms classroom, sprawled across a pile of cushions they had found in the back. She was playing with the buttons on his robe. "Penny, there's something I should have told you a long time ago."

"Hmm?" Her eyes were still fixed on his throat.

He took a deep breath and said, for the first time, what he'd known since he was thirteen years old. "Penny, I'm bisexual."

Her fingers traced the edge of his ear. "All right."

Her acceptance unlocked a door in his mind, and for the first time he did not try to push away the dreams that came to him. His days held a sloping waist, soft breasts, tendrils of hair against a long neck. His nights were filled with strong backs, taut nipples, deep laughter and hard muscle.

When they returned for their final year at Hogwarts, he knew that he needed her. During the hot nights in Egypt he hadn't slept well, and had spent hours sitting in bed and longing to explore every inch of her skin. He arrived at school with condoms in his trunk; and if she did end up pregnant, it would be all right because he loved her and she loved children and he wanted to marry her right after graduation anyway. They would be all right. The would start an enormous family like his parents had done, only Percy would make far more money than his father ever had and give his children the best of everything.

The first time was in the prefects' lounge, on a sheet spread over the couch. The second was in his dormitory; they'd snuck away from a Quidditch match.

And then the classes got more intense than ever before, and the prospect of ten N.E.W.T.s seemed daunting. For the first time Percy began to wonder what would happen if he _didn't_ get into the Ministry. Fear of failure overrode desire, and soon a late night in the library became far more crucial than walking Penelope to the Ravenclaw tower. His irritations ran at an all-time high. Before long Penelope's laugh was an annoyance, her devotion overbearing, her energy unrealistic. _She_ was one of two children, the daughter of a Gringotts executive; money had never entered her mind. His longing for her diminished, and he found himself making excuse after excuse.

And then he began to notice Oliver: five foot eleven inches of sweet, friendly, burly Scottish manhood.

"Penny, this isn't – "

"I know," she said softly.

"I did love you."

"I know, Perce." She embraced him, and it was finished.

He was seventeen, single, curious, and horny.

Oliver had seemed like a fantasy personified: interested, willing to please, caring. But he, like Penelope, was second to a career, and careers at the Ministry did not include same-sex lovers.

Not that they had been lovers, exactly; their physical relationship had basically amounted to Oliver wanking Percy until he came. Percy never reciprocated.

He sighed, adjusted his glasses, and disapparated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oliver was sitting at the end of the bar, taking long swigs of butterbeer. He was in Muggle clothes, black jeans and a white t-shirt. Percy slowly approached him.

Oliver gulped the last of the bottle and set it down hard. "We aren't staying," he said. "I need to speak to you in private."


	13. Part Two, Chapter Four

Part Two, Chapter Four

The two years since they'd parted had left Oliver virtually unchanged; if anything, the angles of his face were more sharply defined. Not looking at Percy, he led him out of the pub and into the street.

"Well be apparating back to Edinburgh," he said. For the first time, Percy noticed that Oliver was holding the handle of a small suitcase in his hand. "My boyfriend ought to be there – I've been abroad for the past week and I left him house-sitting. He's got an engagement at half past two, so we'll have privacy after that. Do you remember my address?" He looked over at Percy, his face showing nothing.

Percy nodded. "7 Allerby Lane, flat 2A."

"Right. We ought to end up outside my building; Ian's a Muggle, he isn't used to people popping up right in front of his eyes. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"All right." With a crack he was gone, and Percy followed suit.

Allerby Lane, which housed most of Ediburgh's wizarding population, was a long row of cracked gray cobblestone framed by squat brown buildings. Two old wizards sat at a table on the sidewalk, playing chess. A group of noisy small children flew their toy broomsticks in the street while a stern-looking witch glared at them. Drainspout gargoyles looked down from the corners of each roof with unblinking, pupil-less eyes.

Without a word to Percy, Oliver turned his key in the door and opened it. They walked silently up the dark and dusty staircase, which was lit only by two windows on the landing. The banister creaked under Percy's hand.

Oliver didn't unlock the door to 2A; he turned the knob and pushed. Percy followed directly behind him.

"Hey, Ol," said a thickly Scottish voice from across the room.

On the charcoal-colored leather couch sat a young man with a newspaper beside him. He was remarkable, thought Percy, in that he was completely ordinary. His face was soft-featured, and neither very ugly nor very attractive. His head was covered in close-clipped dark blond hair; he had a medium build and looked to be several inches shorter than Percy, who was a couple of inches over six feet. The man wore a pair of khaki trousers and a white shirt. The only truly dazzling thing about him was his smile, which was aimed at Oliver; it didn't seem that he had noticed Percy yet.

Oliver set down his suitcase and took a few steps forward towards the couch, and the man got to his feet. Smoothly, he slid his arms around Oliver's waist and thrust his hands down the back pockets of Oliver's jeans. "Nice to have you back," he whispered. His teeth found Oliver's earlobe and his hands squeezed lightly. Percy stared.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Ian, we have company."

"Oh," said Ian, not startled in the slightest. He removed his hands and peered around Oliver's shoulder. "Hello, I'm Ian McTavish."

"Percy Weasley," said Percy stiffly.

"Percy and I have some business to attend to," said Oliver, whose eyes had not left Ian since he entered the flat. "Come back after you see your family and I'll tell you about Romania."

Ian twitched his eyebrows. "Promise?"

"Of course."

"All right then," he said, kissing Oliver briefly on the mouth. "Just one moment, I need to get some things I left in the bedroom." As he walked out of the room he reached into his pocket, and shortly afterwards Percy heard the whir and click of a cigarette lighter.

"Ian, I told you I don't want you smoking in here," Oliver called.

"Christ, Ol, I was only going to have one."

"That's not the point."

"I don't see why this is such a bloody issue with you."

"If your career depended on your body, you'd understand."

"Fine. Excuse me for not understanding about your precious Quidditch." He came back into the sitting room, a pile of disheveled clothes in his arms.

"Hey." Oliver stepped in front of Ian, blocking his path. He placed two fingers under Ian's chin, raised his head, and kissed him gently on the temple.

"Sorry," Ian muttered. He kissed Oliver back and started for the door. "See you in a few hours."

"Could you stop by my parents' and pick up the book I left there last week?" Oliver asked him.

"Sure."

Oliver turned to Percy. "Ian's family lives next door to mine."

A distant conversation, long forgotten, came to Percy's mind. "You two used to play pirates," he said slowly.

"You told him that, Oliver? God, I'd forgotten all about that." Ian rested one hand on the doorknob. "Nice to have met you, Percy."

"Likewise."

With a final smile to Oliver, Ian left, closing the door behind him. Percy heard a key turn in the lock.

He turned back to see Oliver moving Ian's papers from the couch. "Here, sit down." Percy obeyed.

"Does Ian live here?" he asked hesitantly.

"No." Oliver laid the last of the papers on the table and sat next to Percy, who was keenly aware of the silence that Ian had left.

"I asked you to come over," said Oliver, "because it looks like we might be seeing more of each other."

Whatever Percy had expected, that wasn't it.

"Your brother Charlie and I are doing some work together for the Order," said Oliver. "Your mum is already talking about having me over to dinner. We need – "

"You've joined the Order?"

"Yes, and that's all I can say," said Oliver immediately. "Don't concern yourself with it. The point is, it looks like we won't be able to avoid each other, and for the sake of everything I think we ought to come to some sort of a truce."

Percy swallowed. "Were we fighting?"

Oliver stared, incredulous. "You told me I was a 'detriment to your career'." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "As if the Ministry has time to care about its employees' personal lives…Quidditch is a hell of a lot more public, but I didn't treat _you_ like crap."

Percy's mind struggled; part of it was coming up with arguments, while the other half was cringing.

"Do you even fancy men at all, or was I just your experimental phase?"

He made himself look directly at Oliver. "I'm bisexual."

Oliver bit his lip thoughtfully. "So Penelope wasn't just a cover."

"No."

"Well," Oliver said. His voice had softened. "Then you're a bit better than I thought."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Percy said, "I've thought about you a lot since we broke things off."

Oliver looked surprised. "You have?"

"Yes. I – you're right, Oliver, I did treat you like crap. And you didn't deserve that."

"You're damn right I didn't," said Oliver, but the mild tone of his voice undermined the harshness of his words. "There was a lot I could have given you, if you'd have let me."

A lump began to form in Percy's throat, but he swallowed it. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "I did like you. It wasn't about you, it was my problem."

"Yeah, Perce, I know."

Percy opened his eyes. "Do you hate me?" He didn't know what he'd do if Oliver said yes.

"No, I don't. But I hate what you did."

"I understand."

Oliver rested one hand on Percy's shoulder. "You care a lot about what other people think of you, don't you."

The words left his mouth before he had time to think. "I don't!"

Oliver rolled his eyes, a sad, sort of tense smile on his face. "Percy, yes you do. Don't give me that." He removed his hand, sat back, and sighed. "God, that always bothered me so much…"

Percy's mouth froze. He wanted to say something, anything, to Oliver, but his mind refused to work. Words, his treasure and his solace, had finally failed him.

"I should go," he finally choked out, frightened of what might happen if he stayed longer.

"All right." Oliver's voice seemed far away; he stared blankly at the wall, his lips slightly parted. 

Percy nodded and, with a shaky crack, disapparated.


	14. Part Two, Chapter Five

Part Two, Chapter Five

His clothes were first. Someone had brought boxes of his things over while he was out; he threw open drawers and threw in the piles of clothing before slamming the drawer shut. Next were the books, shoved hard into the shelves and smacked down on the top of his desk. His head felt hot, his fingers ached to destroy. He spotted his briefcase and heaved it across the room with all his might. It hit the wall and burst open, papers flying across the floor.

"Don't, Percy."

He looked up to see his father standing in the doorway, his hands at his sides and an intense look on his face. With a sob, Percy sank to his knees and held his head in his hands.

He felt his father's arms enclose around him; he fought to get away. "Leave me alone," he moaned, feeling angry and hopeless and embarrassed all at once. "God, why can't you all just leave me alone!"

"You always were dramatic," said Arthur. His grip stayed firm. "I'm not going anywhere until we talk."

Percy let out a cry of frustration and let his body go limp, defeated. "What. What _is_ it?"

His father's hands tugged his own away from his face; Percy forced himself to look up. His father's lips were pressed tightly together; he seemed older than he had been the last time Percy had seen him, older yet calm and a little sad.

"Percy, I don't know where to start. You have acted like everything I raised you not to be: an arrogant, self-centered elitist. You have caused your mother indescribable pain, you have been callous and cruel, and, above all, you've behaved like a spoiled child." He took a breath. "Frankly, Perce, I haven't got the energy for this. This is a trying and emotional time for everyone, especially those in the Order. I'm tired. I haven't had a proper night's sleep in over a week. My back hurts, my head is throbbing, and I had to go destroy a flame-breathing computer this morning. I'm on the breaking point, and your behavior is the last thing I need right now.

"I'm going to give you a choice. You can stay here, be civil and helpful, try to redeem yourself, or you can go back to London and stay there until you're willing to admit you were wrong and apologize. It was your mother's idea to bring you back here, it wasn't mine. I love you and I always will, but you cannot live here if you're going to act like you have for the past year." His eyes remained steadily gazing at Percy, who finally had to look away.

Percy swallowed. "Dad?"

He hadn't called his father Dad since he was around nine. At that point he'd decided that Father sounded more dignified.

Arthur sighed. "What, Perce."

"I – I can't promise you that I'll change. I don't know if I can. I've just realized in the past day – everyone I've ever cared about, I've treated like dirt. I don't know how to do anything else." He paused and then continued. "But I can try. I am sorry for the way I've acted around you and everyone else, I just don't know if I can change."

His father seemed to be deep in thought. Finally he said, "I don't know if you really believe that or if you're making excuses."

"I don't know either." He realized he was twisting his hands and stopped. "I have been horrible, I know I have, I've been more terrible than – "

"No, Percy, that's where you're wrong. You haven't been one bit more horrible than anyone else who's ever lived. Millions of other people have thought the same sorts of spiteful things you have, they've just lacked the rashness and sheer impudence to say them out loud." He laughed, a sort of hollow, empty sound. "It's hard to keep track of where you're at; one day you're convinced you're the most wonderful person in the world and the next day you think you're the worst."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Finally Percy spoke. "I ought to have visited you when you were in hospital. Of all the things I regret, I regret that the most."

Arthur sighed. "I hope you mean that. For both our sakes." He gripped Percy's arm. "You can stay here, but the exact minute you act as insensitive as you have been, you'll leave. Is that understood?"

Percy nodded. "Yes."

His father released his hold. "I think your mum and I forgot that you were still a child in so many ways." He moved as if to stand up. "Now pick up these papers, I've got to get back to the office."

He leaned over and Percy could feel his father's lips pressed against the top of his head. But before he could say anything Arthur was gone, out the door and walking steadily down the staircase.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Percy wasn't usually given to speculating on how the past could have been – then again, he usually didn't throw things and cry in front of other people either. As he resorted his various sheets of paper and scrolls of parchment, his mind turned to years ago. He wondered what Penelope was doing now, whether she had a lover, where she was working. At least Oliver seemed to be happy, Percy hadn't ruined that much for him. He had a job he enjoyed and a flat and Ian. Ian, who had permission to run his hands over Oliver's firm backside, to taste those lips, to – _Stop it, Perce_, he told himself as he held the briefcase open and slid in the last of the scrolls.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the hours before dinner, Percy's mother was too preoccupied to worry about him. Bill and Charlie had come home early, and Charlie was sporting a fresh shiny burn on his left arm.

"Calm down, Mum, it's not like he hasn't had them before, said Bill, who was leaning against the cupboards. The look on his face was somewhere between irritated and amused.

"Oh, let her go on," said Charlie, who was wearing loden robes and sitting at the table, finishing off a bottle of butterbeer. "With Fred and George out of the house, she needs a fresh victim to worry about." Bill rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Really, Charlie, you wear fireproof clothes when you're at work, I don't understand how – "

"Because you have increased versatility if you leave your arms bare to just past the elbow," said Charlie, clearly trying to be patient. "Everything has its occupational hazards." He glanced over at Bill and for the first time noticed Percy, who was standing in the doorway. Charlie licked his lips slowly. "Hello, Perce."

"Hello," said Percy quietly. He felt very small all of a sudden, small and young and timid.

Charlie gestured to the chair next to him. "Here, come in and sit down."

Percy did. The chair felt steady compared to his quivering stomach.

"Well, I wish you'd find a way to be more careful," said Molly, who was cleaning the oven. It seemed to have been neglected for a long time; she had performed a Scourgifying Charm five time and there was still of a thick layer of grime coating all sides.

"Mum, they're dragons, there's only so much you can do," said Bill. "Anyway, we didn't show up early so you could fuss over Charlie, we thought we'd update you on what's been happening at headquarters."

"_Scourgify_! Well, let's hear it, then,"

Percy felt like perhaps he should leave, as after all he wasn't a member of the Order of the Phoenix. However no one seemed to care, so he stayed in his seat.

"Well, Kingsley and Tonks are still on Azkaban guard duty, but Tonks is only temporary until Moody gets back. It's a risk, having someone so clumsy around that place, though she's done a good job so far. About a fourth of the other Aurors are with them – they say that Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy keep trying to put up a fight."

"Dumbledore and McGonagall have been in meetings with Fudge just about every few hours, they're reporting back whenever they've got a spare second," Charlie continued. "It's been agreed that the identies of the Order are going to be kept from the public. Hestia and Emmeline are due back at the end of the week, Moody a day or so before them. Mundungus has found loads of stuff he reckons could be used as weapons; he keeps bringing in more boxes and storing them in the cellar. Sturgis is leaving for Japan in a few hours."

"And how is Remus?" Molly asked.

Bill pressed his lips together and exchanged glances with Charlie. "Not good," he said. "Worse than the last time you saw him."

Their mother set her wand down on the counter and took the seat on Charlie's other side. "The poor man," she murmured.

"He's decided that he will move back into the old flat, though," said Charlie. "Eventually – he isn't ready to leave headquarters yet."

"It ought to be good for him, moving," said Bill. "Imagine having to live in that house, where that goddamned portrait still shrieks – "

"They haven't taken it down?" exclaimed Molly.

"They'd have to remove the entire wall, the Permanent Sticking Charm isn't giving," said Charlie.

"Then they ought to do it," said his mother. Her voice was intense and her hands were shaking slightly. "It ought to be burned, destroyed – "

"And the full moon begins tomorrow, to make matters worse," said Charlie. Molly let out a low moan and buried her face in her arms.

"Perhaps it won't be as bad as it could be," said Bill. "Mundungus thinks he's found some sort of an animal sleeping potion – "

Their mother's fists slammed down hard on the table, making all three brothers jump. "Mundungus!" she screamed. "If that irresponsible, despicable _thief_ so much as – "

"You aren't being fair, Mum," said Bill, hastily taking the chair next to Percy. "Sirius trusted Mundungus, Dung wouldn't – "

"Well, Sirius didn't always trust the right people, now did he!" cried Molly.

The argument was growing louder. Percy was trapped in the middle of it, confused and out of place.

"Sirius would have never trusted someone he thought would hurt Remus," said Bill, his voice rising emphatically. "_Ever_. I know you don't like Dung, but you can't say he's ever physically harmed anyone. Snape's examining the potion beforehand. I've never liked Snape, but I'm not thinking about that because I know he knows what he's doing. There's too much at stake these days to let personal problems get in the way."

"Am I in the way?" Percy asked timidly.

They all turned at once; it seemed they'd forgotten he was there.

"Don't be stupid," said Bill at once, before getting up to get a glass of wine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner was a subdued affair. Everyone, it seemed, was too frustrated and overwhelmed to say anything more about the Order or the Ministry. Conversation revolved around Ginny and her day; she'd gone to see a girl called Luna and then met up with Dean Thomas, who, it seemed, was now her boyfriend. At his father's quietly spoken suggestion, Percy went to bed early.

Hermes had flown in sometime during dinner, and sat on his old perch in the corner. Percy's room was neat and orderly now, almost as if he had never left. The only notable difference was his desk, which was clean and empty.

When he tried to think through the day, his head hurt, so he gave up and fell into an uneasy sleep.


	15. Part Two, Chapter Six

Part Two, Chapter Six

Percy woke up the next morning confused as to why he was in his old room at home. A second later he remembered and moaned.

The Burrow was completely silent, which was what finally got him out of bed. His explanation was posted on the kitchen door.

Percy dear,

Your father and Bill have gone to work; Charlie is at Order Headquarters. Ron came home very late last night. He's quite angry with you – if he's home when you read this, try to make some sort of peace with him. Ginny has gone to see Hermione Granger. I'll be back for lunch, try to get some rest.

Mum

Percy glanced at the clock. The hand labeled "Ron" pointed at "Traveling". He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and started to rummage in the cupboards for breakfast.

As he fried some bacon with flames from the tip of his wand, the reality of being in the house alone with nothing to do sunk in. It had been months since he'd had any leisure time, yet he felt terrified at the prospect. Stalling, he poured an extra glass of pumpkin juice.

His dream during the night had been about lots of different buildings, ones he had been to in real life. In the dream he was weightless, floating above each place and able to see through the walls and to the inside. First had been Hogwarts; he'd seen his old dormitory, now filled with the belongings of other boys. In the Gryffindor common room two girls were throwing a Fanged Frisbee and he'd wanted to reprimand them but couldn't because he was floating away towards the Ministry.

Alexandra Whitmoth was sitting at his desk, which she had moved from the east wall to the west. She was writing hastily with a bright-orange quill, absentmindedly flicking back a few strands of blonde hair. As Percy watched the door to the office opened and Cornelius Fudge entered, a stack of parchment in his arms and a frustrated look on his face. Percy tried to call out to him but then he began to spin backward, the Ministry becoming a whirl of color.

Oliver and Ian were on the black leather couch, Ian's head resting on Oliver's lap as the two of them read the newspaper. Percy gazed down, fascinated and transfixed. Oliver suddenly looked up at him and smiled, a sad, serene look. As Ian read on unaware Oliver beckoned Percy downward, and Percy found himself able to follow, but then Oliver's flat turned into the staircase of the Burrow.

He was standing on the landing, with his mother holding one hand and Ginny the other. His father came up the stairs, clapped Percy on the shoulder, and kept walking. Percy couldn't see the rest of the family; then suddenly he knew they were in the walls, alive. He ran at the wall and tried to rip it down, but his mother grabbed him and pulled him back, saying he needed to rest. He shook her off and clawed into the wall, chunks of plaster crashing to the floor.

But Percy's brothers weren't in the wall; through the gaping hole was a small sitting room, decorated in a faded red color. Percy woke up immediately.

The bacon was finished; he at it slowly and then looked up at the kitchen's other clock, the one that told the time. It was almost eleven o'clock.

Percy returned to the cupboards and took out the bag of flour. Lunch would be soon; perhaps he'd make some biscuits.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"And _who_ is supposed to eat five trays of biscuits?" said Molly two hours later.

Percy shrugged.

"Mum, this is Percy we're talking about," said Ginny, picking up one of the chocolate biscuits and taking a bite. "You didn't honestly expect him to sit around the house all morning, did you?" She swallowed. "At least they're _good_ biscuits."

Percy's mother gave him a look that was somewhere between frustrated and worried. "_Five trays_, Percy."

"He can count, Mum."

"Ginny, that's enough from you." Molly said sharply. She sighed and sat down at the table. "I spend an entire hour convincing Mundungus to take his smuggled jars of broomstick polish out of the third-floor bathtub. I then spend half an hour making soup for Remus, who needs all the nourishment he can get before he transforms tonight. I sit through an extremely long meeting. Now this." She glared and then suddenly, to Percy's great shock and surprise, she began to laugh. Percy and Ginny exchanged frightened looks.

"What are you two looking at me like that for?" asked their mother when she was able to speak. "I suppose you think I've gone mad."

"Mum…" Ginny began.

"They're only biscuits, I don't know what I'm upset about," Molly said. "I think I'll apparate back to headquarters and see if anyone wants to come over and have some." And she was gone with one loud pop.

Percy stared, amazed. Ginny shrugged and took a second biscuit. The clock ticked.

"I worry about Mum sometimes," said Ginny. "She – "

The fire flashed a bright green and a man tumbled out. At least Percy _thought_ it was a man; he was very short and wore an enormous purple top hat. The man stood up and glanced around the kitchen, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. His dark, shiny, deepset eyes landed upon Percy and Ginny. "Hello!" he exclaimed, looking very excited. "Your mother said there were biscuits?"

"Honestly, Dedalus, introduce yourself before you ask about the food," said a cheerful, light voice. A young woman with spiky pink hair was dusting the ashes off of her aqua t-shirt. "Wotcher, Ginny. And you're Percy?"

Percy nodded curtly.

"I'm Tonks. That's my last name, not my first, the first is atrocious." She sprang over to the table and peered down at the trays. "Ooh, they're _chocolate_ biscuits!"

"Dedalus Diggle," said the very short wizard to Percy, sticking up his hand. Percy shook it gently; he felt enormous next to such a small person.

"You look like a really young Arthur," said Tonks, her mouth full of crumbs. "Got Molly's curls, though."

Percy put one hand up to his head, realizing that he'd never combed his hair. The soft spirals felt unfamiliar.

Two loud cracks emitted from behind him, and when he turned his head he saw that his father was standing next to the stove, beside a tall wizard with a smooth bald head and a gold hoop in his ear. "This is Percy," said Arthur.

"Hello," said the man Percy knew was called Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I've seen you several times, but I don't think we've ever been formally introduced. Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Hello."

Dedalus Diggle helped himself to a third biscuit.

The fire blazed green again and Charlie came out, along with Oliver. Not noticing anyone else in the room, they launched into a conversation that they seemed to have started earlier.

"But you haven't got the build for a Seeker at all," said Oliver, shaking the soot from his hair. It landed on his gray robes and disappeared.

"Light bones," said Charlie, shrugging. "And good reflexes."

"Was it difficult to – "

Tonks cleared her throat.

"Sorry," said Oliver, grinning sheepishly. "Hello, everyone." He faced Percy's father. "Bill won't be coming, Mad-Eye's come home early and they're getting rid of the portrait."

"At last," breathed Diggle.

"A victory for all blood traitors, Mudbloods, half-breeds, and other children of filth," said Kingsley with an ironic not to his voice. There was a general murmur of agreement; confused, Percy bit into the edge of his biscuit.

"So, you cracked and had to work," said Charlie genially to Percy as he took the seat next to Diggle. "No surprises there." He looked over at Oliver, who had sat next to Ginny. "I bet he was a maddening roommate during school."

"Never," said Oliver with such finality that Tonks dropped her biscuit and Charlie started, looking incredulous. Percy blushed.

His mother appeared across the room with a pop. "Well, it looks like this is all of us," she said briskly. "I'm going to get some milk and butterbeer."

"I'll help!" said Tonks immediately, springing from her seat and bumping her thigh on the edge of the table.

Molly bit her lip. "Really, it's fine, I – "

"I won't drop anything, I promise!"

"She's gotten loads better, Mum," said Ginny earnestly. "Yesterday she passed Lupin the bowl of porridge and none slopped over the side."

"Professor Lupin?" said Percy blankly.

"Yes dear, that's Remus," said his mother. "He's part of the Order." She set down four bottles of butterbeer on the table and sighed. "I suppose there's lot to fill you in on, isn't there. I'm not quite sure where to begin."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Perce," he said slowly, "remember Scabbers?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was an hour and a half before Charlie finished, aided by interruptions from Kingsley, Arthur, and Tonks along the way.

"So Sirius Black…?"

"Innocent. And dead. Killed by his own cousin."

"Tonks and I found her the day after the Ministry's announcement," said Kingsley in his deep, solemn voice. "She was lying in a London alley, barely conscious. Voldemort had left her for dead."

"But she was his follower," Percy said.

"And she'd failed him. After over a decade unable to help she'd let the prophecy be destroyed. She's in Azkaban now."

"And the dementors are gone."

"Yes. Tonks and I just got off of guard duty this morning."

Percy's breath was coming unsteadily; he could tell that everyone was looking at him. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I should have listened. I'm sorry."

"Older and wiser wizards made your same mistake," said Kingsley firmly. He looked at his watch. "Now we need to get back to work. I'll see you soon, Percy." He squeezed Percy's shoulder and disapparated.

"He's right," said Diggle, putting his eleventh biscuit into the pocket of his robe. "Thank you for the snack." And he too was gone.

"Try not to be too hard on yourself, Perce," said Tonks, looking anxious. "You're no worse than anyone else." _Crack_. Percy stared down miserably at the floor.

"I'm meeting Dean in Diagon Alley," said Ginny hesitantly. "I'll be home for dinner, all right, Percy?"

"Fine." He heard her throw floo powder into the fire and say her destination.

"Mum and Dad and I have work," said Charlie softly. "We'll be home soon."

"All right," Percy muttered. He wouldn't look up. There was silence, and then the rest of his family disapparated.

He folded his hands and sighed. "So. Alone again."

"Not quite," said a familiar deep voice.


	16. Part Two, Chapter Seven

Part Two, Chapter Seven

Oliver was sitting on the other end of the kitchen, a glass of milk in his hand. He smiled at Percy and Percy's eyes widened in surprise; it was the same sad, serene smile that Oliver had worn in his dream.

"I'm sorry things were uncomfortable yesterday," Oliver said softly. "There was more I wanted to say but didn't."

Percy found himself involuntarily twisting his fingers.

Oliver set down his glass. "I always saw so much potential in you," he said, his eyes resting on Percy's wringing hands. "You know what I miss? I miss the way it was toward the end of our seventh year in school, when I'd quiz you for exams and we'd talk about murder mysteries and then we'd go to dinner. I miss how relaxed I always felt with you; you never expected anything from me. And I expected too much."

Percy shook his head. "No, you didn't. It isn't too much to expect that a person respect you."

"Right there," said Oliver immediately. "That's who I miss. I miss the boy – man – who thought and felt and cared about other people. The month we were a couple – that wasn't you, Percy. That was – fear? Immaturity? I don't know. I miss _you_."

He rose from his seat and walked over to Percy, sitting down in the chair next to him. "Perce, I want us to be friends again."

Percy sighed. "It's all changed, Ol."

"I know. Perhaps for the better."

"I disowned my whole bloody family, Oliver! I treated them like absolute dirt. That's what I do to people I care about. Is that what you want? I am a selfish, insensitive, arrogant idiot who shamelessly flattered the Ministry, who acted like a stupid social climber WHILE MY FAMILY WAS FIGHTING AGAINST A DARK LORD!" His hands were shaking. The air in his lungs was creating a pressure in his chest that made him feel like he was going to explode.

"And you don't have to act like that anymore," said Oliver, his voice controlled but equally forceful. "_You_ are in control of your life, and _you don't have to act like that any more_."

It was the look on Oliver's face that stopped Percy from launching into his next tirade. Oliver was angry, fuming, as angry as he had bee on that day two years ago when he'd hissed at Percy to get out. Now he wanted him to come back.

"I don't," whispered Percy, not sure if he had uttered a statement or a question.

"You don't."

Percy lowered his head; Oliver placed two fingers under his chin and lifted, the same thing he had done with Ian. Percy forced himself to meet the warm brown eyes.

"I missed you too," he said awkwardly, suddenly aware of just how alone they were.

Oliver's hand moved from Percy's chin to his back, gently rubbing in slow circles. "Hey," he said.

Percy could feel his body relax under Oliver's touch. "So," he asked, "How long have you been with Ian?"

"Four months last week," said Oliver, his hand leaving Percy's back. "Yeah, he's been my neighbor since forever, didn't know he was gay until just before he asked me out, though. Our mums thought it was just _so cute_, their little babies were dating." He made a nauseated face. "They're a bit scary, my mum and Mrs. McTavish. You can't tell one of them something without the other knowing in under twenty-four hours." He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, and yawned. "Sorry, I was up late last night. Anyway," he continued, "Ian's sweet. Bit difficult, though, with him being a Muggle, there's so much I always have to explain to him."

Although Percy wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more about Ian, his curiosity got the better of him. "Is his family all right, about yours being wizards and everything?"

"Yeah, Mr. McTavish's best mate from when he was a kid is a wizard," said Oliver. "They figured it out the second they saw our owl." He yawned again. "So, are you with anyone?"

"No," said Percy. _Not since you._

Stop being jealous of Ian, you prat.

"Oh. Suppose you're busy, with work and all." He took an enormous gulp of milk, draining the glass. "So, what do you do all day while everyone else is gone? Besides making biscuits."

Percy rolled his eyes. "My mum wants me to rest."  
He got up from his chair and began to pace across the kitchen, from doorway to stove. "How in the hell does she expect me to sit around all day while the rest of the world is doing something? I _don't_ rest. I _can't_ rest. She must be mad."

"So don't stay here," said Oliver, his eyes following Percy back and forth.

Percy stopped. "And where do you suggest I go?"

Oliver shrugged. "Come with me."

"So I can be in the way? No thank you."

"You wouldn't – " Oliver's mouth froze. A brightly glazed look had come over his eyes, a look Percy remembered from just before Quidditch matches. "Perce," he said, his gaze steady, "when you're at work, do you have access to the International Personal Files?"

"I have access to everything Fudge needs," said Percy.

"Which would be just about the entire Ministry, right?"

"If Fudge – " 

"Forget him for a minute. If you were in the Hall of International Personal Files, would anyone find it unusual?"

"I shouldn't think so. I've been there a few times before."

Oliver was beaming. "You, my man, have just solved about half my problems in less than one minute." He clapped Percy hard on the back. "You want something to do besides sit about the house all day?"

"Of course, but – "

"Let's apparate back to my flat, I can explain better there, plus Charlie can help me."

"Charlie…?"

But Oliver was gone, and Percy had no choice except to follow.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Percy's first perception upon arriving in flat 2A was of being in a particularly noisy party, one full of noise and confusion and people. As his eyes came into focus he realized that the gathering of people was actually quite small, though it was every bit as loud as he'd thought.

"This is still headquarters, Mundungus, even if it isn't Grimmauld Place!" shouted a small woman from Oliver's leather couch. "It is for the Order and the Order alone! Last time I checked, stolen broomstick polish had nothing to do with defeating You-Know-Who."

"Oh come on, Figgy, my flat – "

"You mean Ali Bashir's flat that you _squat_ in – "

" – hasn't got any space left for these jars."

"Sorry, Dung, they'll have to go," said Oliver from across the room. "I could lose my job if someone found them here."

"Exactly!" exclaimed the small woman, jumping in her seat so violently that her tartan slippers flew off her feet.

"Don't see what your Mr. Tibbles has to do with the Order," muttered the man standing to her right. His head was covered with lank strands of ginger hair that fell just past his shoulders. He pointed with his thumb to a large furry brown blob at his feet.

"Oliver likes him," said the woman stubbornly.

Mundungus swore under his breath. "What I wouldn't give for the days when Sirius let me keep my cauldrons under the stairs – "

"Leave him out of this," said Charlie sharply. Percy hadn't noticed him before; he was sitting in a beige armchair, scowling at Mundungus.

Oliver cleared his throat. "We have company."

The three others craned their necks toward Percy, who was standing behind all of them next to the door.

"Hello," said Mundungus, his mouth spreading into a broken-toothed smile. "You'll be Percy. I like you already, whenever your mum was angry at you she'd lay off me."

"Behave yourself," said Oliver at once, though his tone was much less defensive than Charlie's had been.

Mundungus crossed his green-sleeved arms over his chest. "Fifty-eight years old and here I am being ordered about by – "

"All in favor of Mundungus leaving with his jars and coming back when he can contribute something, say aye," said the old woman tartly. She was answered by a two-man chorus.

"Ach, you're a second Molly, Figg. All right, I know when I'm not wanted." He stormed out the door and into the corridor, whispering fiercely under his breath.

"I wish he'd stop mumbling like that," said Charlie, examining the half-healed burn on his arm. "Reminds me of Kreacher, the little toerag."

"Sit down," said the old woman, looking at Percy and patting the seat next to her. He obeyed.

"This is Arabella Figg, Perce," said Oliver as the woman stuck out her bony hand.

"And you're to call me Mrs. Figg," she said in a no-nonsense voice that reminded Percy strongly of Professor McGonagall. "No one's allowed to call me Arabella unless they're over thirty-five."

Oliver sat down in the other beige armchair, next to Charlie. "All right, Percy, here's the proposition."

Mrs. Figg yawned and folded her hands across her lap.

"You are currently sitting in the Order's Recruitment Headquarters, otherwise known as my flat," began Oliver.

"Room's run out at regular headquarters," said Charlie. "We're supposed to get protection charms the day after tomorrow."

"Here's what we need you for," said Oliver. "We've got this massive list of potential members – acquaintances, co-workers, family, et cetera."

"Enormous thing," interjected Mrs. Figg, beckoning to Mr. Tibbles. "Eight scrolls of parchment. And I had to recopy the entire thing because Mundungus's handwriting looks like fwooper scratches."

"But we need some sort of source to confirm that the people on the list are really on our side," Oliver continued. "That's where the International Personal Files come in. You can get anyone's criminal record, family background, place of business, all sorts of things."

Mr. Tibbles jumped over Mrs. Figg and landed on Percy's lap, sniffing about experimentally.

"Fudge is on our side now," said Charlie. "He can arrange for you to be in the Hall if we ask him to."

Percy bit a nail. "How much time would this take?"

"Just about every waking minute you're not at work," said Oliver. "And you would have to go back to work. The identities of Order members are supposed to be a secret, and it'd look weird if you were in a guarded room in the Ministry for no reason."

"You realize my mum is going to barbecue you, Ol," said Charlie conversationally.

"Yeah, probably. But if there's one thing I know about Percy, it's that he goes mad if he doesn't work."

Mr. Tibbles nuzzled against Percy's hand until he surrendered and scratched the cat behind the ears. The loud purring became the only noise in the room.

"So?" said Oliver. "You'd be great, you know. And we need to build up the foreign branches – you used to work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. We could really use you."

It had been far too long since he'd heard those words.


	17. Part Two, Chapter Eight

Part Two, Chapter Eight

"Actually, she took it well," said Charlie to Oliver the next day. "I think she was afraid that Percy would use all the baking supplies if we left him at home another day."

"Dedalus brought me some of those biscuits," said Mrs. Figg, who was sorting papers on the floor. "Lovely. Very tasty. Mr. Tibbles liked them too."

Oliver and Percy exchanged furtive smiles over the top of her head.

A very subdued Mundungus was spread out on the couch, both eyes half closed. "Don't talk so bloody loud," he groaned, putting his hand to his head. "I'm hung over."

"Charlie, come and look at this," said Mrs. Figg in an exaggerated stage whisper.

"I thought I'd let you use my library as a sort of office," said Oliver to Percy. "Follow me."

Down the corridor and to the left was a tiny room – or maybe it was only the fantastic amount of books that made it look so small. They covered every inch of wall space, leaving only the desk and floor bare.

"Sorry about all this," said Oliver, gesturing to the books. "There's no place else for them."

But Percy was barely listening; he turned around in a slow circle, trying to take in the sheer vastness of the volumes. "How many are there?" he asked, aware of the awe in his voice.

"Ian tried to count once, but he got bored after three hundred and eighty-three," said Oliver.

"I knew you liked to read, but I didn't know you liked it _this_ much."

"Oh, don't be impressed," said Oliver, rolling his eyes. "They're mostly dedicated to three subjects: Quidditch, murder, and sex."

Percy gave a little jump. Oliver grinned.

"_That_ one got you interested, didn't it?" he said with the air of someone who knew he was right. "Try that wall over there." He winked before he shut the door. Percy couldn't decide if he was irritated or pleased.

Pleased won.

__

"Brad," he moaned, getting harder by the second. "Just do it…"

"Give me one good reason why," whispered Brad before he bit teasingly at Jonathan's stomach. The other man's fingers dug fiercely into his shoulders.

"Because I – "

There was a loud knock at the front door, followed by an even louder string of expletives from Mundungus. Percy set down the book and, once he was sure his robes sufficiently hid his erection, opened the door to the library.

"Hello, Ian," he heard Oliver say.

"Hey, Ol. What's all this?"

Pause. "Complicated. Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure." Ian sounded confused.

"All right. My bedroom, then."

Two pairs of footsteps were getting louder as they came closer to the corridor; Percy sprinted back to the library and shut the door as quietly as he could. He heard the door next to him open and shut a few seconds later.

There was some muffled noise, and then Oliver said, "Ian…you know I think you're great. You've always been a wonderful friend to me, and I hope you always will. But I don't think we ought to be a couple anymore."

Percy leaned against the bookcase and strained his ears.

"Why?" Ian asked. "I mean, we have loads of fun, and – Ol, is there something you're not telling me?"

Oliver sighed. "No, there isn't. But we can't give each other enough, Ian. You need someone who can share his whole life with you, and I can't. Until this war ends, there are always going to be things I can't tell you, people I know whom you can't meet. I love you as a friend, but I'm not in love with you, and you shouldn't have to wait around for someone who isn't absolutely mad about you." His voice was gentle and a little sad.

There was a silence. "I understand," Ian finally said.

"I had to tell you," said Oliver. "I care about you too much to do this to you."

More silence. Then Ian said, "That mate of yours with the red hair and glasses is gorgeous."

Percy nearly fell into the bookcase.

"Percy?"

"Yeah, the tall bloke with the freckles across his nose. Is that his brother in the sitting room?"

"Yeah, Charlie."

"He's cute too. Too many muscles for me, though."

"I resent that," said Oliver. Ian laughed.

"Is Percy gay?"

"Bi."

"Date him."

Percy's mouth fell open. He couldn't believe this, couldn't believe that Oliver's now-ex was trying to set them up…

"Ian!"

Well, Oliver didn't need to sound _that_ shocked.

"I'm serious, date him. Honestly, Ol, have you _seen_ that arse? God…and that really white skin. I bet he turns pink up to the roots of his hair whenever he's really turned on."

"He does," Oliver replied. "He's my ex."

There was a sound of skin slapping against skin and then a groan."

"Sorry, I'm so stupid – "

"No, you just didn't know."

"So what happened?" Ian asked.

"Things. It was right after Hogwarts…I think we were just too young for things to get as involved as they did."

"You're older now."

"Oliver!" called Mrs. Figg from the sitting room. "I need you to read this letter."

"I've got to go," Oliver said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"All right."

"If you ever want to snog an incredibly handsome Frenchman, I know three single ones."

"You know, I might just take you up on that."

Their laughter grew fainter as they walked further down the hall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Percy slipped off his glasses and turned them over so he could see his reflection. The curvature of the lenses made it slightly distorted, but still fairly accurate.

__

Am I really good-looking? he wondered.

He hadn't bothered to comb down his hair since coming home to the Burrow, so it was a mass of unruly curls. Though he'd fought against his hair for years, somehow he didn't mind the curls now. They seemed right, somehow, like the way his hair should be.

His forehead, due to a full two years without holiday, was currently unfreckled, though he did have two spots lurking near his temple.

His eyes frustrated him most of all. Percy had read book after book in which eyes reflected every possible emotion: grief, joy, anger, lust, disappointment, fear, determination, love. His didn't. They were brown, not even a deep brown like Oliver's, but a pale and blank shade that revealed absolutely nothing. He hurriedly skipped down to his nose.

The last of his freckles were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose, like someone had tapped a cinnamon canister over him. It was quite a long nose, though fairly thin and straight. Only his father and Ron had a nose like his.

He hadn't seen Ron yet. According to Ginny he'd come home late at night and left at the crack of dawn. "He's fuming," Ginny had said. Her eyes had been solidly fixed on the sausage she was cutting. "I've never seen him quite like this. I could hear him storming around his room most of the night."

Percy stared a second longer and then hastily shoved his glasses back onto his face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oliver invited the Recruitment Department to stay for dinner.

"Can't, sorry," said Mundungus, who had eventually forced himself to get up off the couch and start work. "I've an engagement."

"If Magical Law Enforcement catches you, don't expect me to pay your bail," said Mrs. Figg as she removed Mr. Tibbles from Oliver's umbrella stand.

"The problem with you, Figgy," said Mundungus, raising his head in a very defensive way, "is that you can't see the better nature of a man. As it happens, my engagement tonight has nothing to do with my, er, line of business."

"Where are you going?" asked Charlie, grinning.

"On a visit, not that it concerns you."

"Have you got a date, Dung?" Oliver asked, his eyes crinkled with mirth. "What's her name?"

"I'm going to see my mother. Satisfied, Wood?"

Charlie and Oliver howled with laughter. "Your mother!" Charlie gasped, his head thrown back. "What's she called, Mrs. Dung?"

"Now we know where the lovely drag ensembles come from," Oliver added.

Mundungus scowled and disapparated.

"I can stay for dinner," said Mrs. Figg once Charlie and Oliver had calmed down.

"All right, then, spaghetti for four," said Oliver, and opened the door to the kitchen.

Percy had never seen Oliver's kitchen before; it was small and blue, with several Muggle appliances. There was a gigantic moving photograph of the sky on the ceiling. Percy watched the clouds roll across the setting sun.

"I've owled Fudge to say I'm going back to work tomorrow," he said as Oliver began to boil water.

"Tomorrow?" said Charlie, surprised. He sat down between Percy and Mrs. Figg. "Go on and go the day after, we won't mind." He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Of all the days to go back to work…"

Oliver looked over, curious. Percy's eyes rested on the strong curve of his back.

"It's Percy's twentieth birthday tomorrow," Charlie explained.

Oliver smiled at Percy. "Really? Take the day off."

"I need to go back to work," Percy insisted. "I've added a bit to the list of names and now there isn't anything left to do until I get the files."

"It can wait," said Oliver. "If you skive off work another day I'll show you Edinburgh after I'm done with practice."

"Oliver, this is a war! Things can't just _wait_!"

"War doesn't mean your life gets put on hold," said Oliver firmly, dropping stiff strands of spaghetti into the bubbling water. "Come on."

"Bill and I thought of an inscription for your gravestone, Perce," said Charlie. "Here lies Percy Ignatius Weasley. The only man who, on his deathbed, wished he had spent more time at the office."

"_I_ think he's being very responsible," said Mrs. Figg.

"That's his problem," Charlie replied.

Percy gave him a pointed look. "I am returning to work tomorrow and that is final."

"Then I'll pick you up afterward," said Oliver. Percy's stomach gave a nervous yet anticipatory jump.

"What did Ian want?" asked Mrs. Figg as Oliver served the spaghetti.

"The long and short of it is that we broke up on amicable terms," Oliver said.

Percy was stunned. Aside from one lesson in Professor Lupin's class, he'd never heard someone talk so candidly about romance between men. He wished someone had been candid when he was fourteen and scared out of his mind. Just once.

"Pity," said Mrs. Figg as Oliver poured the milk. "He's such a nice boy."

Oliver took the seat next to Percy. "He is," he said. "But I think we both need someone different."

By the time Percy dared to look at Oliver his host was staring resolutely at the salt shaker.


	18. Part Two, Chapter Nine

Part Two, Chapter Nine

As Percy got ready for work the next morning, it seemed that everything that could go wrong, did. His mother was upset because Ron seemed to have taken up temporary residence at Order headquarters; Percy avoided her eyes, knowing full well that he was the sole reason for his brother's decision. Hermes bumped into the floo powder jar and it smashed on the floor, which meant that Ginny had to walk the two miles to the Lovegoods' to use their fireplace. Percy realized that none of his better robes were ironed, so he was forced to borrow one of his father's. Bill turned up wanting to borrow a broomstick. All the eggs were gone and so was the orange juice.

Things at work weren't much better.

Someone had let a swarm of pixies loose inside the Ministry; the majority had been captured by the use of a Freezing Charm but a few had escaped and were hiding in tiny spaces, darting out on occasion to wreak havoc. 

"D'you suppose the Death Eaters let them in?" asked a very young and wide-eyed witch in the lift. Percy guessed she was a recent Hogwarts graduate.

"If it was, then they're losing their touch," he said.

He reported to Fudge's office as soon as possible. The Minister, though a bit pale and sporting reddened eyes, seemed to have regained his usual sense of self-importance. "Weasley, I've got a meeting in ten minutes, and I'll need you to take notes," he barked the second Percy approached him. "You have until then to move back into your office."

Contrary to Percy's dream, Alexandra Whitmoth didn't seem to have changed a thing. His desk stood where it always had, and his Hogwarts diploma still hung on the wall. He unpacked his briefcase quickly and hurried back to Fudge's office.

"Damned glad you came back," the Minister grumbled as Percy sat down. "Whitmoth was acceptable, but Stellington had to train her in." Grace Stellington had replaced Delores Umbridge as Senior Undersecretary.

Percy poured himself a cup of coffee. "After this you have one hour to get your files," said Fudge in an urgent whisper. "Then I have a conference."

There was a brisk knock at the door; immediately, Fudge's shoulders sagged. "Yes, come in," he said, his tone so deferential it was almost submissive.

"Hello, Cornelius, would you like a scone?"

In the doorway stood Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore had a pleasant smile on his face; he was wearing a navy blue robe that was lavishly embroidered with crimson thread. His face was somewhat more lined but his eyes were as lively as ever. McGonagall too appeared unchanged; she looked a bit cross, the way she did when someone from Gryffindor had been incredibly foolish and lost the house an enormous amount of points. Her fingers gripped the tray of scones.

"Fudge, your Ministry is infested with pixies," she said crisply.

"Yes, a bit of a mishap," Fudge mumbled. "Most of them removed – culprit unknown – "

"There are at least three dozen of them flying through the corridor on Interdepartmental memos."

"Three dozen!" Fudge exclaimed. His eyes were so wide that he reminded Percy of a house-elf. "Merlin's beard, we disposed of them all except the last ten or so!"

"Perhaps they've reproduced," said Dumbledore solemnly. As McGonagall sighed and Fudge muttered, he turned to Percy and winked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the clock outside his office chimed six, Percy shoved the last of his things into a desk drawer and groaned. His head was throbbing. His hand ached. He was tired, exasperated, and ready to scream. "I did _not_ get ten N.E.W.T.s so I could be at the beck and call of a stubborn git in a bowler hat," he said aloud.

"Stressful day?"

Percy looked up and his jaw nearly fell to the floor.

Oliver was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame on one raised arm. He was dressed all in black Muggle clothes – a tight black t-shirt (Percy could see the outlines of his nipples), heavy boots, a pair of jeans that hugged his hips. His smile was easy and relaxed.

__

Turn around so I can see how those jeans cling to your arse, Percy thought.

"Terrible day," was what he actually said. "It sounds all impressive on paper: Junior Assistant to the Minister." He snorted. "'Junior Assistant' translates into 'glorified secretary'. Do you know what I did all day? I took notes at meetings. Except for one hour when I ran through the Hall of International Personal Files like a madman."

Oliver took his arm off the doorframe and walked inside the office. "I'm sorry," he said. "It sounds boring as hell."

Percy looked up at him. "Yeah. And I can't quit, either, because of the files."

Oliver rested a hand on his shoulder. "You could transfer back to International Magical Cooperation," he suggested.

Percy ran a hand through his hair. "I just might."

"Are you too tired to go to Edinburgh? Because I want you to get a lot of rest."

"You sound like my mum."

"Not so much that you go mad, just enough. So?"

__

I want to tackle you to the floor and listen to you moan. "No, I'm all right. Edinburgh."

As they walked down the corridor, Percy kept venting his frustrations. "I spent three hours taking notes at Fudge's meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall. You'd think a meeting about a war against a Dark Lord would be interesting, right? No. Three hours devoted to Security Charms and where they should be placed. And after I got the files – " they were currently in his briefcase " – Fudge spent the rest of the day in a conference with about a dozen foreign ministers, only seven of which spoke English. Do you know how many languages I speak?"

"One."

"One."

They reached the lift and Percy pressed the button. "I'll be glad to get my mind off things," he said.

"We'll go to dinner first," Oliver replied as the door opened. "Some trashy Muggle place where you don't have to worry about table manners."

The lift was empty; they stepped inside and pressed a second button. "A lot of the shops will be closed, but that's all right," continued Oliver as the door closed. "We can come back over the weekend." The lift began to ascend. "There's an enormous hill near the university called Arthur's Seat, if you want we can apparate to the top and then after – "

There was a great shriek of metal against metal, and the lift came to a complete stop. The doors remained shut. Percy and Oliver slowly turned and looked at each other.

"I think it's gotten stuck," Percy said. "Although I can't imagine why – "

"Listen, what's that noise?"

Percy stood still and listened hard. "I don't hear anything."

"It's gone now, try again."

And then he heard it – an incoherent series of high-pitched yet muffled shrieks.

"It's the bloody pixies," he moaned. "Some idiot let them lose this morning and now they've gotten into the lift system." He jabbed the bright fuchsia emergency button and spoke into the series of small holes next to it. "This is Percy Weasley, I'm stuck in a lift with a friend of mine."

"Assistance will arrive as soon as possible," said an unfailingly calm female voice.

He sank to his knees and then sat on the floor of the lift. "I have the day from hell and now this happens."

"How long do you think it will take them to get us out?" asked Oliver, sitting next to him.

"I'm not sure. It depends on what exactly the pixies did to the gears."

"Can't we apparate?"

"No, it doesn't work in the lifts." Suddenly he became aware of the fact that he was alone in a lift with Oliver, isolated from the outside world. He licked his lips uneasily. 

The jabbering of the pixies stopped and there was silence.

"Of course this _would_ happen when I have a headache," said Percy, leaning his head back against the wall. "Whoever let those goddamned pixies in ought to be beaten with thorns."

"Not to be too dramatic or anything," added Oliver. Percy turned towards him and saw that he was smiling.

"Shut up."

Oliver reached over and rumpled Percy's hair.

"Stop it!"

"Oh come on, it looks cute." He twisted a curl around his finger.

"Oliver, I'm warning you – "

"Glad you stopped slicking it down, it looked awful."

Percy tried to pull Oliver's hand off, but Oliver resisted. "Honestly, Ol, get off – "

"Do you really want me to?"

Percy's hand slipped off of Oliver's arm.

Oliver leaned over and kissed him.

It was a light kiss at first, their lips barely touching. Cautiously, Percy rested one hand on Oliver's shoulder; Oliver responded by darting his tongue in and out of Percy's mouth. Percy whimpered.

Oliver pulled away slowly. "Liked that?"

Percy nodded, his breathing heavy.

"Want more?"

He closed his eyes. "_Please_."

Before he knew it, he was being lifted onto Oliver's lap, his legs draped over Oliver's thigh. He slipped a hand under the black t-shirt and brushed his fingers over one firm nipple.

"Keep doing that," Oliver murmured, nibbling up and down Percy's ear.

"Ol, my neck – "

Oliver lowered his head and bit hard over the largest vein. Percy nearly screamed.

"We ought to have you out of there in the next few minutes," called a voice from above. "The pixies stuck rocks in the gears."

"Thank you!" Oliver responded before he plunged his tongue down Percy's throat.

Percy's hands ran frantically over Oliver's chest; he was desperate for more heat, more skin, more Oliver. A low groan rose from deep within him. He pulled his mouth away from Oliver's and rested his flushed cheek on the other young man's shoulder. Oliver's arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

"Ol," Percy gasped, "fuck me, please fuck me…" The phrasing was vulgar but in his highly aroused state he had lost his inhibitions.

"That's not a good idea, Perce," Oliver whispered.

"I want you – I want you so much – "

"Don't think I'm not tempted." Oliver began to rub Percy's back. "But think a minute. We're in a lift – a lift at your _work_ – we've just barely gotten back together, and there are repair wizards right over our heads. Plus we haven't got any lubricant," he added.

As Percy's blood slowed he realized the logic in Oliver's words. Of course they couldn't, not now and not here.

But oh, how he wished they could.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Five minutes later the lift began to rise. Percy stood up, picked up his briefcase, and yawned.

"Go home and get some sleep, we'll got to Edinburgh tomorrow. I haven't got Quidditch practice, so I'd thought Recruitment could meet from nine until two."

"I've got work."

"Yeah, your schedule looks like it's going to be a bit of a problem. I'll try to work it out for you."

The lift stopped; Percy yawned once more as the door opened. The corridor was empty.

"Oh, I brought you a birthday present," said Oliver as they walked out. He took a small rectangular package from his back pocket and handed it to Percy. "You aren't allowed to open it until I've disapparated, okay?"

Percy nodded. Oliver's lips caressed his temple. "See you tomorrow, beautiful."

"See you tomorrow."

__

Crack.

Percy turned over the package in his hand and began to strip the paper. When he finished, he stared, incredulous.

Oliver had given him his copy of _The Emerald Cloak._


	19. Part Two, Chapter Ten

Part Two, Chapter Ten

Percy woke to a twittering sound; still half asleep, his thought it was the pixies. After a few confused seconds he sat up and saw an enormous red bird sitting on Hermes's perch. "Hello," said Percy, blinking. The bird tilted its head and sang a single note. There was a letter attached to its leg, which Percy removed and read.

__

Dear Percy,

Oliver spoke to me last night about your work schedule; I must admit that it will be difficult to manage. The Order have more need of you than the Ministry, yet your sudden unemployment would look suspicious, which is the last thing we want. Cornelius and I have come to this compromise: with the exception of a few hours a day at the Ministry, you will spend your time with the Order. If anyone asks as to your whereabouts, they will be told that the Minister has sent you away from the Ministry on business. Cornelius would like you to arrive today at nine o'clock.

So far, your work for the Order has been superior, as I knew it would be. Therefore, I shall entrust you with this information. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are located at 12 Grimmauld Place, London. Please memorize that last line and then destroy this letter.

Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore

Percy read the line ten times, learning it down to the spelling of "Grimmauld". Then he lit the letter on fire with flames from his wand and watched as it burned in the air.

The bird was still sitting on the perch. "I suppose you're the phoenix the Order is named for," said Percy. "Er – can you tell Dumbledore that I did as he asked? And tell him I said thank you."

The bird chirped and then disappeared.

Percy glanced at the clock; it was seven o'clock, which meant that he had plenty of time to get ready for work. He wondered how long he would have to stay there; he was eager to see Oliver and read through the files, in that order. As he thought of Oliver standing in his office doorway, Percy realized he was grinning, his mouth spreading so wide that his face began to ache.

"You idiot," he said affectionately to his reflection, the way that one would tease an old friend. The face in the mirror beamed back.

It took half an hour of digging through his wardrobe and bureau drawers before Percy decided on wearing jeans and a dark green t-shirt. He spread the outfit out on his bed and looked at it critically, eventually deciding that it was too plain. Oliver never wore anything that was very detailed, but a firm chest and narrow hips were accessories enough. After some more rummaging Percy found an old leather jacket of Bill's and laid it next to the shirt.

Well, he thought as he surveyed his clothes, it wasn't ravishingly sexy, but it would look all right. Besides, Percy had a suspicion that he could appear in front of Oliver naked, oiled, and hard as a rock, and somehow Oliver would still manage not to shag him. At this point in their relationship, anyway.

But that was all right. Better than racing full speed into another horrendous mistake.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tonks was sitting at the breakfast table, listlessly stirring her coffee and looking very morose.

"So then I tripped on the stairs, and the pixies must have snuck off or something – I didn't even _know_ there were pixies in the box, Jemima Folle saw me in the corridor and asked if I'd take the box down to the Pest Advisory Bureau…by the time I stood back up the lid on the box was closed, I never realized it'd sprung open, but it must've – "

"Didn't you hear the pixies?" Charlie asked.

"No, I had my headphones on."

"Headphones?" asked Percy's father eagerly. "With _batteries_? Do they – "

"Not now, Arthur!" snapped his wife.

"Sorry, dear," he answered meekly, but with a definite spark in his eye. "Sorry, Tonks."

"It's all right." She grabbed for a napkin and blew her nose rather loudly.

"How long did it take for Pest Advisory to open the box?" Percy asked, sitting down next to Ginny.

"Seven hours, they were really busy all day." She tossed the napkin into the wastepaper basket and looked up. "Your glasses are different."

"Yeah," said Percy, self-consciously touching the new frames. He'd transfigured them from round and horn-rimmed to black oval wires.

Tonks smiled. "Looks good."

"Thank you."

It was at that moment that a screech owl began to manically bang its beak against the window.

"I've never seen that owl before," said Ginny curiously as she leapt up to open the window. The owl landed on her arm and she took its letter. "Perce, it's for you."

He read the letter twice, once to himself and once aloud.

"Dear Head Git. Mum says you've joined the Order, so we suppose this means we have to at least be civil. Therefore, we shall henceforth acknowledge the fact that you are our brother and shall also agree to be in your presence on occasion. Happy birthday. Sincerely, Gred and Forge."

Arthur put his head in his hands and groaned.

"At least it's a start," said Charlie. "Up until a few days ago he was 'that bloody pile of rat droppings'. Compared to that, 'Head Git' sounds almost affectionate."

Percy rolled his eyes and reached for a piece of toast.

"Sirius told me once that his mum used to call me 'a genetic flaw conceived by an unnatural union'," Tonks offered.

Percy started to smile; he felt guilty until he realized that Tonks herself was trying not to laugh. "See? It can't get worse than that."

"How about, 'a genetic flaw conceived by an unnatural union with dead flobberworms for brains and a tremendous wart on her nose'?" Ginny suggested.

"Virginia!"

"Or, 'a genetic flaw conceived by an unnatural union with dead flobberworms for brains and a tremendous wart on her nose, stringy hair, bulging eyes, and a voice like fingernails on the blackboard'."

"Charles!"

"Plus ingrown toenails, the head of a monkey, and the feet of a mooncalf."

"Percy!"

"No to mention drool and breath that smells of garlic vomit."

"Nympha – "

The rest of the table laughed as Molly realized her error and blushed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Percy arrived at Oliver's at half-past eleven, the exact second Fudge released him. He found Oliver asleep on the couch, cheek pressed against the pillow and feet hanging off the armrest. Percy watched his chest rise and fall for a few seconds before he leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

Oliver's eyes fluttered open. "Hey," he said sleepily.

"Hey." Percy kissed Oliver's forehead again. "Where's everyone else?"

"They've gone off to get some names checked with Dumbledore. If it all goes well the Order ought to have eight new members soon."

"That's good."

Oliver sat up, blinking. "I was thinking about you a lot last night."

"I was thinking about you too. And reading _The Emerald Cloak_ – I'm at the part where Madam Auricle finds the blood-spattered shoes in Sir Henry's trunk." He paused, eyes resting on Oliver's messy hair. "Ol, I want to say that I really appreciate that you gave that to me. I mean, it's one of the rarest books in the wizarding world."

"And should therefore belong to one of the rarest people," said Oliver, stretching his arms. "Get up here, Perce."

Percy sat down next to Oliver and brushed some hair off of his new boyfriend's forehead. It really was a beautiful forehead – so broad, so smooth. Oliver's features were too sharp to be conventionally handsome, but that only made Percy want to look at him longer.

"Edinburgh today?" he asked.

"As soon as this meeting's over. I thought we'd basically stick to the Royal Mile, it's my favorite part of the whole city. You ought to see it in August; it's mobbed because the Muggles have their Fringe Festival. Huge theatre thing. I saw a couple of shows last summer with my boyfriend at the time."

His matter-of-fact speech made Percy realize how comfortable Oliver was with himself, something that Percy envied enormously. "When did you come out?" he asked.

"That's a bit of a long answer. To my parents – summer before seventh year. Extended family, October after graduation. In terms of my career, it doesn't come up. Puddlemere's a dedicated lot, we hardly ever have conversations about anything personal. I'm only Reserve Keeper, so the press has mainly left me alone so far."

"When did you come out to yourself?"

"Fifteen. Although looking back, I wish I'd admitted it sooner."

"I was thirteen," said Percy, relieved that he had been ahead of Oliver in _something_.

"That's probably when I should have done it." Oliver cupped Percy's face. "But if it ever did come up at work, I wouldn't lie." He reached further for Percy; Percy nudged over and let himself slide into Oliver's arms. "I'd tell them I'm seeing a brilliant – " nuzzle " – sexy –" kiss " – wonderful man." He started to slowly chew on Percy's lower lip.

Percy loved sitting on Oliver's lap; it made him feel consumed, surrounded by a warm fortress of Oliver. He stroked Oliver's jawline as they kissed.

"I love this outfit, by the way," Oliver murmured, slipping his hands inside Percy's jacket. Percy moaned softly. He found that he was no longer anxious for climax; instead he enjoyed the tenderly arousing feel of Oliver's fingers tracing his ribs. It reminded him briefly of Penelope, during their sixth year when they were just beginning to learn the feel of each other's bodies. But his reminiscence was short; the past was gone, he was Oliver's now and didn't want it any other way.

He started to nibble on Oliver's earlobe; Oliver sighed and pulled him closer. "The top, bite the top. Not too hard. Yes…that's it, Percy…that's it…_yes_…"

The loud pop startled them both; Percy fell forward onto Oliver, who was then pinned against the armrest. Charlie was standing across the room.

He took a deep breath. "Well."

Oliver and Percy exchanged worried looks. "We've been dating since last night," said Percy hastily. Anything to interrupt the perilous silence.

Charlie sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs. "I hope you're treating him well."

"I am," said Oliver at once. "Believe me, I would never – "

"I'm not worried about you one bit, I was talking to Percy!"

The door opened and Mrs. Figg came in, with Mr. Tibbles on a lead. "Well Oliver," she said, "you certainly waste no time."

"Guess not."

"Percy," Charlie continued, "if I find out that you are in any way being manipulative, unfair, or cruel – "

"Hey!" Percy protested, scrambling off Oliver's lap. "I haven't done a damned thing wrong!"

"See that you don't. You two have to keep getting along, at least for the sake of the Order."

"We're getting along fine," Oliver said firmly, kissing Percy's cheek.

There was a sharp crack and then Mundungus was standing by the doorway, surrounded by a cloud of green smoke. "I can't believe Dumbledore don't want Enery," he said." Old Ennie's one of the best – " He looked at the others and stopped. "I miss something?"

"I'll tell you if you put that thing out," said Oliver, nodding at the pipe.

"Yes, Mr. Tibbles is allergic," said Mrs. Figg.

"Your Tibbles likes me better than you think, Figgy," said Mundungus, the pipe and smoke vanishing. "Oy, Tibbles! Come over here and give Dung a kiss."

"He doesn't want to."

"You're still clenching onto that lead."

Mrs. Figg let the purple lead slip from her fingers. The entire room watched as Mr. Tibbles took a few tentative steps toward the door.

"That's right…nice Tibbles…"

The cat began to rub its face against Mundungus's trouser leg. He bent down and let it lick his finger. Mrs. Figg sniffed.

"See, Charlie, at least Perce and I get along better than those two, anyway," said Oliver.

"Hmm?" said Mundungus, looking up. His gaze landed upon Oliver and Percy's intertwined hands and a sudden look of understanding spread across his face. "Ohhhh…so _that's_ how it is…well, Wood, you could do a lot worse."

"Thanks, Dung," said Percy.

"You're entirely welcome."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Percy, can I keep these files in your desk?"

"Go ahead," said Percy, not looking up from his book. He'd sorted all his files and decided to spend the last few minutes before he and Oliver left for the Royal Mile reading.

"What's the book?" Oliver asked, bending over to open the drawer.

"_Hung Jury_." Percy's eyes slid over to Oliver. "Mmm, keep bending over."

Oliver laughed. "You know, Perce, for someone who spent seven years of his life devoted to following rules, you're very horny."

"I admit it." He closed the book and slid it back into the shelf. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Not in the slightest," said Oliver before he licked Percy's neck.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"If you keep smiling like that, Mum's going to know that something's up," said Charlie to Percy five hours later, just before dinner.

Percy shrugged. He felt emboldened, exhilarated, high off of the fresh air and the fresh memory of Oliver's arm around his shoulder as they walked through the streets.

"I'm not joking. They aren't stupid, you know. Someone's bound to ask you what's going on."

"You know what?" said Percy, kicking his feet against the side of the steps. They were outside on the porch; Charlie was polishing his broomstick and Percy was doing nothing in particular except thinking of Oliver. "Here's what I think. Somehow, bits of our personalities have switched. You got my former overbearing trait."

"Look." Charlie set down the broom. "This whole romance with Ol is new, right? Give yourself some time to get used to it before they have to. Hell, I didn't even know you fancied men."

"And women."

"God, _that's_ just going to complicate the whole thing more."

Bill had come home for dinner.

"The fang was bad enough," said his mother as she passed the corn. "Actually, I was starting to get used to it. But what, Bill, did you _have_ to buy a hoop that makes you look like a pirate?"

"Yes," said Bill, which made Ginny giggle.

"Really, Mum, it isn't as big of a deal as it used to be," said Charlie, setting down his water glass. "Look at Kingsley, he's got an ear pierced."

"Yes, but Aurors have always been a bit eccentric. Look at Mad-Eye, for heaven's sakes! Look at Tonks!"

"Poor Tonks," said Percy's father a bit absentmindedly. "I have a feeling that the Ministry will forgive her for the pixies sooner than she'll forgive herself."

"Is she always that clumsy?" Percy asked.

"Most of the time, yes."

"Speaking of Tonks," said Molly, addressing Bill, "she liked Percy's new glasses. I think she might even fancy him a bit."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Molly," said her husband. "They barely know each other."

"Ooh, Percy and Tonks!" said Ginny, her face lighting up. "Maybe she'll trip and fall into his arms!" 

Charlie was giving Percy a very pointed look from across the table.

"Well, if she does, I'll stand her back up and keep walking," said Percy, blurting it out before he lost his nerve. "I'm already seeing someone."

Charlie bit his lip. Ginny settled her chin in her hand, as though she was getting ready to sit and listen for a while. Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise. Percy's parents slowly turned to face him.

"Oh?" asked his mother. Her voice was unnaturally high. "Who?"

Percy steeled himself. "Oliver Wood."


	20. Part Two, Chapter Eleven

Part Two, Chapter Eleven

There was a silence.

"Since when?" asked Bill after almost half a minute.

"Last night."

The room was still again.

"Isn't anyone going to say something?" said Ginny, looking around. When no one did, she continued, "Well, what I want to know is how long Percy's known he likes blokes."

"I believe that's what we'd all like to know," said her mother. She was gripping her water glass; her knuckles were very white. "You could have said _something_, Percy. To us, to Penelope, to – "

"I _did_ say something to Penelope," said Percy emphatically. "I'm bisexual, I didn't lie to her. And how was I supposed to have said something to you? I figured you'd get upset, just like you're doing now."

"I can't deal with this," Molly muttered, burying her head in her hands. "I can't – "

"He needs you to!"

The whole room jumped. Percy turned; it was Charlie who had spoken.

He was sitting rigid in his chair, perched on the edge. "Well, do you want him back or not?" he continued. Percy could tell he was making a great effort to control the volume of his voice. "If you do, you can't pick and choose what parts of him you want. You're his mother. How is he supposed to do things that you can't?"

Percy's father looked back and forth between his wife and his third son, as if he didn't know whom to go to first. Finally, he said, "Percy, are you happy with Oliver?"

"Yes."

Arthur walked over to Molly and kissed the top of her head. "Molly, he's happy," he said. "He's back home and he's happy. What more could we possibly want for him?"

"He isn't going to _stay_ happy!" she wailed.

"No one ever does, dear."

"There will be people who hate him, who – "

"Everyone's hated by someone, Mum," said Bill, passing her a handkerchief. "That isn't going to stop."

Charlie cleared his throat. "I, er, actually found out about Percy and Oliver a few hours ago," he said. "You ought to see them together. They can barely keep their hands and eyes off of each other."

Ginny smiled at Percy. He swallowed hard and smiled back.

"Oliver's a good person, Mum," he said as she dabbed at her face. "He isn't going to hurt me."

"Are you sure you're – bisexual?" she asked, looking up at him with reddened eyes. "People go through phases, you know."

"Not phases that last twenty years."

"We've got seven children, Molly," said Percy's father. "The odds were we'd get one that wasn't straight."

"I can get used to it," she muttered, her voice still shaky. "It's just – Percy, are you _sure_?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

And at that moment, he felt more proud of that one word than of anything else he'd ever done in his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So then after everything calmed down Dad realized I hadn't gotten my birthday presents from the family yet," Percy told Oliver the next day. "He and Mum got me clothes – Bill and Charlie combined funds and bought me a new bookcase. Ginny got me three new quills and these chocolates – here, open your mouth, you can have one."

Oliver licked Percy's fingers as the chocolate was placed inside his mouth.

"Seems to _me_," said Mundungus loudly from the armchair, "that if I was to have a box of chocolates, I'd offer them to everyone in the room."

"Sorry, there's only eight of them," said Percy. "Well, five now: I ate one myself and then gave one each to Ginny and Oliver."

"Don't be rude, Mundungus," said Mrs. Figg, who was writing a report for Dumbledore. "You shouldn't ask people for things like that."

"Well, if I'm not s'pposed to _steal_ them, and I'm not 'lowed to _ask_ for them – "

"Then you get a job and _pay_ for them," she finished.

"_You_ don't have a job," said Mundungus resentfully.

"No, I have two pensions, my own and my late husband's," answered Mrs. Figg at once.

"Dung did you ever have a job?" Charlie asked, his tone curious and not critical.

"Raised and sold Crups for ten years."

"So what happened?" asked Percy.

"Well, you need a liscence to have 'em, on account of the tails and such, and – "

"Let me guess, you didn't have one," said Oliver.

"I _did_, it just expired after three years. And after they took the Crups, well, Warty Harris knew about a box of broomstick compasses that some delivery wizard with a few too many drinks in 'im left at the Antediluvian Augrey in Kent."

But Percy had stopped listening; Oliver was planting wet kisses up and down his neck.

"All in favor of Percy and Wood leaving and coming back when they can contribute something, say aye," said Mundungus.

Mr. Tibbles hissed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following day, Molly told Percy to invite Oliver for dinner. "The sooner I get used to things, the better," she said. "And I do like him, Percy, I hope you know that, I just – never expected – "

"It's okay, Mum," he said, and he kissed her on the cheek, hoping to ward off another of her emotional outbursts.

"What am I supposed to wear?" were the first words out of Oliver's mouth.

"A fig leaf. Oh, and dance on the table," said Charlie. Oliver snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Just a nice robe, I expect," said Mrs. Figg. "I like that blue one you wore last Saturday."

"What's that one like?" Percy asked.

"Sort of a pale shade…you can see it if you want, follow me."

"If you ain't back in five minutes, I'll set a bagful of doxies after you," said Mundungus. "This is still Headquarters, even if it ain't Grimmauld Place, right, Figgy?"

"With a memory like yours, Mundungus, you ought to have become a historian or something of the sort," she said. "But he's right. Five minutes, you two, we've got lots of work left ahead of us."

"Have you really got a bagful of doxies?" Percy asked Mundungus.

"Better not to know," Oliver muttered, taking Percy's hand and leading him down the corridor.

"A historian!" they heard Mundungus howl. "A bloody bore, like Binns? I used to flick chalk at him to see if he'd notice – "

"Here it is," said Oliver, and turned the handle of the door.

Percy had never seen Oliver's bedroom; during their brief, ill-fated affair of two years previous, they'd stayed in the sitting room and the bathroom. The bedroom was thickly carpeted in cream, with deep blue walls and a white quilt on the bed. Oliver had a series of photographs on his bureau. One was of himself at the age of twelve or so, with two people that Percy assumed were his parents. The woman had Oliver's coloring and the man had his physique and face.

In another photograph was the Gryffindor Quidditch team of their seventh year. All seven were smiling broadly and fighting over who got to hold the Cup. Oliver was standing a bit to the side, looking at it as though it were the Holy Grail. Finally, Katie Bell seized hold and held the Cup aloft. Fred and George began to ruffle Harry Potter's hair, while Harry tried to swat their hands away.

"This is it," said Oliver. Percy jumped, startled.

The robe was the pale color of a winter sky, and made of a light fabric that felt soft to Percy's fingers. "I like it," he said.

Oliver put the robe back in the wardrobe and beckoned for Percy to come closer. Heart thumping, he did.

Before he knew it, Oliver had pressed him against the wall and was passionately assaulting his neck with an open and wet mouth. Percy began to spread his legs, then realized that Oliver had already spread his own. He rested his hand on his boyfriend's lower back but restrained himself from grabbing his backside.

Oliver began to kiss his mouth, his tongue circling Percy's with an arousing forcefulness. Percy moaned and pressed him closer.

"I love you," he gasped.

Oliver pulled away and closed his legs and eyes. "Don't say that if you don't mean it, Perce," he said, his voice soft and serious. 

"What makes you think I don't mean it?" He did. He was ecstatic around Oliver, a feeling he'd thought was lost forever.

"Because I know what you're like when you're aroused, you lose control and do things you wouldn't do otherwise."

Percy grabbed Oliver's hand. "I _want_ to lose control with you," he said. He realized how seductive that sounded and, blushing, continued, "Not just in a sexual way; you make me want to forget about expectations and conventions and just – I don't know. Enjoy things. With you."

Oliver squeezed his hand lightly. "That's very high praise," he said. "But just think about it, okay?"

Percy nodded, but he knew he wasn't going to change his mind. What was love, if not a constant need and appreciation for another's body and soul?

He tried again. "Look," he said, "I loved Penelope. I don't now, but I did. Maybe I still would if things were different, but I don't. And I don't want to. I know what love feels like, and this is it."

"Speaking of Penelope," said Oliver, "I think I ought to tell you that I know you slept with her."

Percy stared, aghast. Oliver smiled and kissed his forehead.

"I just sort of figured it out, a few days after we broke up. Whenever we were – together – you just seemed more experienced."

"You're right, I did," said Percy as soon as he was able to breathe. Then he asked, hesitantly, "Did you…ever…with any man…?"

"No, actually. Not that I haven't had the chance, but I'm one of the most HIV-paranoid people I know. This friend of my cousin's – first bloke I ever fancied, I was a bit obsessed with him – died from it. So yeah, I just figured I'd avoid that whole mess." He slid an arm around Percy's waist. "And wank like mad instead."

"Thirty seconds!" they heard Mundungus yell.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At dinner that night, they held hands under the table. Without ever speaking about it, Percy and Oliver developed a sort of code.

One squeeze meant, _I'm scared out of my mind that someone's going to say something stupid and embarrass us._

One squeeze back mean, _Don't worry about it._

A thumb massaging the palm meant, _I wish I were snogging you right now._

Fingertips digging into the back of the hand meant, _Me too._

"How's Puddlemere doing?" Ginny asked.

"Well, so far this season, we've defeated the Chudley Cannons, Pride of Portree, and the Appleby Arrows. The Montrose Magpies beat us one-ninety to sixty." Fingers tapping the wrist. _Relax_.

"I never had any doubts that Oliver would play professionally," said Percy. Long squeeze. _I'm so proud of you._

Fingers clasping thumb. _Thank you._

All and all it was a fairly ordinary dinner. To her credit and Percy's relief, Molly treated Oliver the same way she treated all of her childrens' friends: with concern, interest, and an unspoken acceptance. Charlie and Ginny wanted to hear about Quidditch. Arthur wanted to know about Oliver's family; it turned out that Mr. Wood, who owned a broomstick supply shop, had repaired Arthur's Cleansweep Five in 1987.

After dinner, the family left Percy and Oliver alone in the sitting room with such casualness that Percy knew it was feigned. In fact, he was almost certain he could hear Ginny giggling on the stairs.

The minute they were completely alone, he said to Oliver, "Seeing as that meal was stressful and nerve-wracking, I am in no way aroused."

"Good job, Perce. There's a first for you."

Percy ignored him. He lifted his hand to Oliver's face and began to trace his features: nose, cheek, chin, forehead. "And I still love you."

Oliver didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, when Percy was just about ready to shake him, he leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"I love you too, Percy. I didn't want to say it until you said it first."

They clung to each other fiercely, as if they were afraid the other would disappear. Their lips caressed, their arms embraced, and they were at long-sought, blissful peace.

__


	21. Part Two, Chapter Twelve

Part Two, Chapter Twelve

After a few days, much to Percy's relief, things began to fall into a routine.

He would wake up around seven o'clock in the morning to find Hermes, Errol, and Ares sharing a breakfast of dead mice on Hermes's perch. Ares always arrived with a letter tied to his foot; Oliver's notes tended to be short and written more out of affection than necessity. "Puddlemere's Reserve Seeker is marrying a red-haired man," one read. "There's a picture in the _Prophet_; he's nowhere near as handsome as you." Another: "I'm thinking of getting a cat…maybe a black kitten, what do you think? I hope you aren't allergic, I know Bill is." And then there was Percy's favorite: "Hey, beautiful. I bet you just got out of bed. If I were there I'd kiss your freckles and watch your nose scrunch up." They were always signed the same way. "Yours, Oliver."

Percy spent his mornings at the Ministry, which was also when Oliver had Quidditch practice. Stress and humiliation had made Fudge an irritable employer. On his best days, he snapped orders and reprimanded Percy for the smallest errors. When he was at his worst, he screamed and snapped quills every time he tried to write. With each new headache, Percy became more and more convinced that he should transfer back to the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"After all," he told Oliver, "anyone can be Junior Assistant. All you have to do is make coffee, take notes, and not complain."

Afternoons were devoted to the Order, which meant further note-taking, but Percy didn't mind because it was voluntary and analytical. They tended to stop working at around five-thirty; then Percy and Oliver would make dinner together and eat.

Percy's father would have loved Oliver's kitchen; it had a refrigerator that was kept cold by magic, along with a blender and coffee-maker that used some sort of battery. "Never got the hang of cooking spells," Oliver commented. "I always end up burning something." But the food he made the Muggle way was excellent, and Percy's mother noticed that Percy looked like he was gaining a few pounds. Oliver didn't mind a bit – that meant there was more for him to pinch.

"It's odd," Percy said to Oliver one night during dinner. They were having grilled chicken and white wine. "Dumbledore's letting me read all those files and write reports on them."

"Not odd at all. He knows you love that sort of stuff."

"No, that isn't what I meant. In order to write an accurate report, I've got to judge someone's character, in a way, to offer an opinion on whether I think they should join the Order. After Crouch and Fudge, you'd think I'd be the last person he'd want."

"Ah," said Oliver, "but now you've shifted your focus from them to me. He must have noticed that your standards of character have changed."

"Shut up," said Percy, and he kissed Oliver on the cheek. Oliver rested one hand on his shoulder.

"Dumbledore's big on second chances," he said.

After dinner on most nights they'd snog on the couch for a while, but they didn't make love, and neither brought up the topic. 

Ron still wouldn't come home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the day of Percy and Oliver's three-week anniversary, Charlie announced that he was going back to Romania.

"Oh, don't look so depressed," he told the Recruitment Department. Oliver was staring rather listlessly at the floor. Percy was biting his thumbnail. Mrs. Figg and Mundungus were sighing, their heads resting in their hands. Even Mr. Tibbles looked gloomy. "I'll still come back a lot, you know."

"We won't get a damned thing done, with you gone," muttered Mundungus. "Wood and Percy will start shagging in the library – "

"We will not!" Oliver exclaimed.

" – and Figgy will skin me alive. I'm not joking, Charlie, you'll come home and find she's got herself a pair of new slippers, made from the hide of one Mundungus A. Fletcher."

But Mrs. Figg was looking quite bemused. "Mundungus," she said slowly, "did you just show an interest in doing _work_?"

Mundungus mumbled something incoherent but most certainly disgruntled.

"There's hope for you yet," she said happily.

"You'll all do just fine without me," said Charlie. "Besides, we always knew I had to go back to Romania. The Order needs more foreign wizards."

"Then make someone else go," said Percy. "You can't leave. If it weren't for you, Mum would still be sobbing over Oliver and me."

Charlie smiled, small and close-lipped. "You'll be all right, Perce."

"I won't. You've got to stay here, and I don't care if I am being selfish. You took me back without one unkind word. You never complained that I'd joined the Order. You helped me come out, even though you didn't think I was ready, and – " To his surprise, Percy realized his voice was beginning to break. He closed his mouth, startled.

"When do you leave?" Oliver asked Charlie as he took Percy's hand.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Then you ought to go home tonight," Oliver said to Percy. They'd planned to spend the evening at Oliver's flat, giving each other much-needed backrubs and drinking champagne in honor of their anniversary. 

"Oh no," Charlie said. "Stay here. He's been excited all week, Ol. You ought to have seen him. He raided every wardrobe in the house, looking for a perfect outfit – "

"Charlie, I did _not_."

"He even asked Ginny what colors she thought looked good on him."

Percy could feel his ears grow hot. "Charlie, shut up, I didn't – "

"She told him blue, brown, green, and black."

"CHARLIE!"

"And he kept asking me about his nose. 'Charlie, do you think my nose is too long? Oliver likes it, but I think that – '"

"CHARLES BERTRAM WEASLEY, SHUT UP BEFORE I HEX YOU!"

"Ginny's right," said Mrs. Figg.

"You nose is fine, love," Oliver assured him.

Mundungus blinked. "Bertram?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Wow, you're tense," said Oliver a few hours later. "Your back is as knotted as an old tree."

"I know. Fudge isn't helping the situation – ooh, right there, that's it – any." Oliver's fingers were strong and insistent. "God, the house is going to be so bloody quiet once Charlie leaves. It'll be just Ginny and me."

"And Ron, once he stops being a stubborn arse."

"I doubt it."

"No, he'll come home, just wait. Living at headquarters has got to be loads worse than living at the Burrow. He looks thinner already."

Percy turned his head. "You saw Ron?"

"For a split second."

"When was this?"

"Two days ago, when I went to visit Remus."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Look, Percy, I meant to, but then that problem came up with the Russian files and I forgot about it. I'm sorry."

"What did he say?" asked Percy after a few seconds.

"Nothing," replied Oliver, sounding very relieved that Percy wasn't angry with him. "I only just barely glimpsed him when I walked by the door to the parlor." He dug his thumbs into Percy's neck.

"You know," Percy said, bending his head, "I think he comes home and visits when I'm at work."

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw his socks in the laundry."

"How d'you know they were his?"

"They had a big 'R' on each toe."

"Fair enough," Oliver said. Percy could hear the amusement in his voice. "Trust me, he'll give in."

"I just wish he'd _talk_ to me, or just listen to me, even. I haven't seen him in months. I don't know if he's taller, or if he's got more freckles, or what he's doing." He sighed. "No, I know what he's doing, he's doing to me what I did to him." He closed his eyes. "And it hurts."

Oliver lifted him onto his lap.

"God," said Percy. "I still can't believe I was such an idiot. My whole life."

"That's not true."

"It is."

"It isn't. Do you know what I think, Perce?"

"No."

"I think you have to learn how to forgive yourself."

"Forgive myself!" Percy exploded. "God, do you think I can just say to myself, 'Oh, okay Perce, it's all right that you were a cruel and insensitive bastard for your whole life, it's fine now because you can _forgive yourself'_?"

"I didn't say that. I just meant that you don't give yourself room to make mistakes."

"Of course I don't, I've already made enough to last three lifetimes!"

"You have _not_, now shut up and listen to me. You were a pompous kid who spent too much time on rules. Get over it. You wasted time sucking up to the Ministry. So did a lot of people. You disowned your family. All right, that was stupid as hell, but they're taking you back, and you can't just waste your life wallowing in your own misery."

"WHY NOT?" he screamed.

Oliver took his hand. "Because I won't let you." He rested one hand on Percy's cheek. "God, Percy, don't you realize that I'll still love you no matter what mistakes you make, as long as you keep trying?"

Percy tried to hold back the floods of stinging tears, but it was too late.

"Shh, love, it's okay…"

"Ol…" His voice was an unsteady, quiet wail.

"Shh, it's all right, it's okay…" He chanted the words like a mantra, over and over.

"I love you."

"I know you do, Perce."

Percy didn't even bother to put his arms around Oliver; he just let Oliver hold him, let him stroke his hair and whisper to him until at last the tears had subsided and his body had gone limp.

"I want us to make love," he said when he could finally speak in a normal voice. The timing was bizarre, but somehow it seemed like the right time to say it.

"Not _now_, I hope."

"No. Next week?"

Oliver laughed. "You never fail to surprise me," he said, and he took Percy's hand and kissed it.

__


	22. Part Two, Chapter Thirteen

Part Two, Chapter Thirteen

__

Dear Charlie,

Well, things haven't been as boring as I thought they would be since you left. A couple of pipes burst in Fred and George's flat, so they've moved back home while it's being fixed. They talk to me, but they're very stiff and formal – very civil, but I can tell they still think I ought to be left to suffer for my mistakes. Dung's trying to help a bit, seeing as they like him. It doesn't seem to be working, though.

Ginny got the dragon-tooth necklace you sent her; she's been wearing it just about every day.

Mr. Tibbles, it seems, impregnated the Siamese cat next door to Mrs. Figg. The Siamese's owner is furious – she said Mrs. Figg can deal with the kittens. Oliver's already claimed one.

Love, Percy

**__**

Dear Percy,

Too bad about F & G. They'll have to snap out of it eventually – being stiff and formal is not in their natures. How are Mum and Dad dealing with it?

I got a letter from Ginny yesterday; now she wants earrings to go along with the necklace. I sense another Bill in the making.

So, junior Tibbleses! I'd take one except it would probably get fire breathed on it. Speaking of babies, we found three abandoned eggs yesterday.

Tell everyone I said hello.

Love, Charlie

Dear Perce,

So, three more days. Although I might have to make it shorter if you wear that tight pair of jeans again.

Yours, Ol

__

Dear Oliver,

Oh, so you don't like the jeans? Maybe I should take them off.

Love, Percy

Dear Charlie,

Fred and George went back home today, taking about half the food in the house with them. They still don't like me, but I think they've stopped thinking of me as Satan incarnate. They still don't know about Oliver, though…that might change their minds back again. Mum and Dad are all right, just a bit frustrated.

Ginny didn't want the earrings for herself after all, she gave them to her friend Luna, who was over here yesterday. I'll ask you, because you're the one who knows about animals – there isn't such a think as a heliopath, is there?

Love, Percy

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"What do you think a part-Siamese, part-Tibbles cat will look like?" Oliver asked as he opened the door to the flat.

"I couldn't tell you."

"I've been trying to think of names, but nothing's coming to mind. Oh well, maybe I'll think of one when I see it."

As they entered the flat, Percy noticed that Oliver seemed to have spent extra time cleaning it. The stacks of lists and the numerous ink bottles were gone from the table, and the thin layer of dust that had covered everything for the last few days had disappeared. Percy's stomach gave a lurch that was half nervousness, half excited anticipation.

"I liked dinner," he said, trying to say something normal to calm his apprehension.

"Me too, I've always liked Italian food." Oliver locked the door and turned towards Percy. "So."

"So." Oh God, this was it.

"Bed? It doesn't have to be in bed, we can be on the couch or anyplace else you want."

__

Anyplace else, hmm? Percy thought. After the incident in the lift, he'd figured Oliver was pretty traditional when it came to sex. Then again, the man did own around four hundred erotic novels… "Bed." At least for the first time, anyway.

Oliver grinned. "Okay, go and get in, I have to get something. And don't get undressed."

As he walked down the corridor, Percy's breath began to shake. The walls seemed unnaturally bright, like something from a dream. He reached Oliver's bedroom and went inside. The white quilt was still the same, though the pictures on the bureau had been put away. There was a book about great moments in professional Quidditch by Oliver's bedside. Hastily, Percy kicked off his socks and got into the bed. The sheets smelled of Oliver: part soap, part sweat, part fresh air. He leaned over and, pressing his face to the pillowcase, inhaled deeply.

He heard Oliver's footsteps and sat up. Oliver walked over to the side of the bed and set something down on the night table. He kept his hand on it; Percy couldn't see what it was, although he suspected it was either a box of condoms or a jar of lubricant.

Oliver reached over and stroked Percy's hair. "Nervous?"

"A bit."

"Me too."

"You aren't the one who's going to be sore in the morning."

To Percy's great surprise, Oliver laughed. "And when did we decide that?"

His face turned red as he realized they'd never discussed it. "You look so beautiful when you blush," Oliver said softly. His hand left the object on the bedside: lubricant. He pulled back the sheets and slid into bed next to Percy. His arms slipped around Percy's waist and his lips grazed his ear. "I'm open to experimentation."

Percy heard his own gasp before he felt it.

Oliver's hands drifted lower until they rested on Percy's buttocks and squeezed. "Then again, this is a _very_ nice arse…"

With a small cry, Percy lunged at Oliver and pushed him onto his back. Oliver moaned. Keeping his hands on his lover's shoulders, Percy straddled him.

Their mouths undulated hungrily together; Oliver's robe buttoned down the front, and Percy began to undo the buttons. He wanted Oliver to groan, he wanted him to scream, he wanted his ecstasy to increase until it reached an intense climax because Oliver was Oliver and he deserved every bit of it. Once he had unbuttoned down to the waist, Percy spread the robe open and lightly rubbed his hands over Oliver's chest. Unlike his own, it was nearly hairless; the nipples were peaked and taut. Percy covered one with his lips and began to circle it with his tongue.

Oliver groaned, one hand grabbing Percy's hair and clenching it. "God, Perce, keep doing that."

Percy obeyed for another few seconds and then moved upward towards Oliver's neck, hands still trying to finish unbuttoning the robe. Oliver shifted. "Here, I'll get it." His hands took over where Percy's had left off.

Percy stared. "What are you wearing?!"

Oliver glanced down and smiled sheepishly. "My lucky corduroys."

"Your _what_? They look like they came from a trash bin."

"Lucky corduroys. I was wearing these when Gryffindor won the Cup, and when I was signed to Puddlemere, and – "

Percy cut him off with a wet, biting kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Afterwards he lay collapsed on top of Oliver, trying desperately to recover his breath. Both of them were warm and flushed with the afterglow of pleasure, bodies completely at rest. Oliver's fingertips traced slowly up and down Percy's spine.

"I'm sorry it hurt at first," he said.

"Don't be. It was just for a second or so." And then…

He could hear the smile in Oliver's voice. "You still scream when you come. Good thing the walls are soundproofed."

"You bite and pull hair."

Oliver's hand rested over Percy's shoulder. "I didn't bite too hard, did I?"

"No."

"Good." A pause. "Spend the night with me."

Percy sat up. "I can't. Everyone thinks I'm coming home."

"So send them an owl. I don't want you to go. Please?"

That was all the encouragement Percy needed. "Okay."

Oliver glanced down. "We're a bit of a mess."

Percy laughed, softly. "Yeah."

"Shower."

Oliver's bathroom was completely black tile and chrome. Inside the shower, they passed the soap back and forth, sometimes washing themselves, sometimes washing each other. They shampooed each other's hair and watched the foamy soap running down their bodies.

Within fifteen minutes, they were both hard again.

"Back to bed?" Oliver asked between kisses.

"No," replied Percy. "Right here." And he slowly dropped to his knees.


	23. Part Three, Chapter One

Part Three, Chapter One

When Oliver awoke in the morning, Percy was still snuggled next to him, his head pressed against Oliver's chest and his breathing steady and even. His eyelashes fluttered briefly; for a second Oliver thought that he might be about to wake up but then he was still again.

Oliver strained his neck to look up and over at the clock. It was a quarter to seven, which meant that he had forty-five minutes to get to Quidditch practice. He knew he ought to get out of bed, but the sensation of Percy's resting body next to his was wonderful and warm. _To hell with it,_ he thought. He rested his hand on the small of Percy's still-naked back and smiled. A few minutes later, Percy woke.

"Hey." His hair was sticking up at odd angles.

"Hey yourself, beautiful."

Percy yawned and rubbed his cheek against Oliver's chest. "Let's not get up. Let's stay here."

Oliver bent down and kissed his forehead. "Tempting, but we've got to. Come on, I'll make you breakfast."

Percy remained stationary. "I've got to apparate home and get new clothes." He shuddered slightly, involuntarily. "They'll all be staring at me like I've got a scarlet letter on my chest. God, what am I supposed to wear home?"

"What you wore last night, I guess."

"That's what people do after they've had one-night stands."

"That's what people do," said Oliver firmly, "when they were out late and had a change of plans. You're going to have to wear what you wore last night, everything I have would fall right off you." He ran one hand through Percy's hair, seemingly unable to stop touching him. "I'll come with you if you want."

"You don't need to, it's fine."

"I want to. I ought to." Mrs. Weasley had been friendly with him since he began to date her son, but she was somewhat guarded in her nature. Oliver figured that she was still getting used to the idea of her son fancying men, especially her son fancying a particular man. He was glad she was concerned, but part of him wanted to yell, _I'm on your side! I want what's best for him too!_

"Really, you don't need to. It'll be weirder if you go." Percy sat up, the white sheet sliding down his pale chest. "They'll be looking at us and imaging all sorts of things."

"I'd rather have them look at us than you alone."

"Look, love, I appreciate it, but you have to go to work." He flopped back down on the bed and pulled the quilt up to his chin. "Unfortunately."

Oliver placed one hand on Percy's back and ran the other up and down his chest, feeling the soft hair. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerve.

"Perce, I want you to move in with me."

Percy turned. "What?"

"Move in with me." He wanted Percy next to him every night. He wanted to come home to someone. He wanted Percy's family to know that he was serious. Slightly discouraged by the startled look on Percy's face, he continued, "We could wake up like his every morning. You're over here all the time anyway, you only sleep and have breakfast at home. We could visit lots so your mum wouldn't worry about you, every day if you wanted. And think, Percy, sex whenever we want it. Come on, it'll be fun."

An exasperated look came over Percy's face, reminding Oliver of his old prefect days. "Oliver, people don't move in together because it's _fun_."

"All right, so fun was a bad choice of words. Really, I want you to."

"Is this 'We'll try it and see how things work out' let's-move-in-together, or is this 'We can't get married so we'll take the next best thing' let's-move-in-together?"

"It's 'I think you're amazing and don't want to be apart from you' let's-move-in-together."

"We've only been dating for a month, you git."

"That didn't seem to be an issue with you last night."

Percy grasped Oliver's arm and leaned in closer, his eyes intent. "I didn't mean it like that. I love you, Ol. If you think I'm not committed to you and I only want you for sex – "

"I _don't_," said Oliver emphatically. He was glad Percy was determined not to make more mistakes, but didn't he know that they were beyond that level of apprehension? "If I thought you were using me for sex, do you think I would have consented?"

"Of course not, you wouldn't do that, I didn't mean – "

He laid one hand over Percy's. "I know you didn't mean that. It's okay."

Percy sighed. "This whole thing is so unfamiliar to me."

"Me too, love." He let Percy's arms encircle him and reciprocated the gesture. "If you don't want to move in with me, don't, no one's making you."

"I do. I just don't want to give my family any more reasons to worry about me."

"I can understand that."

They lay in silence until Percy said, "But I'd love to. I will."

Oliver sat up. "You will?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"I _said_ I would."

"Promise?"

"_Yes_, you prat! Ah! Stop it!" 

Oliver had reached out and grabbed for Percy's ribs.

"You – idiot – " Percy gasped, trying in vain to escape. "I – bloody _hate_ – being tickled – "

"You really will?"

"Yes!" he shrieked, the sound changing from panic to giddy laughter. "I'll move in with you and sleep with you and watch you get dressed in the morning – " His head was thrown back, revealing pink bite marks from the night before. His laughter was rich and generated from deep in his throat.

"You've got a great laugh," said Oliver, finally releasing him. "Really. If you don't use it more I'll have to tickle you again." He nibbled Percy's ear. "Are you sore at all from last night?"

"Not nearly as much as I thought I would be."

"Good." Oliver pulled back the blankets and climbed out of bed, naked. "Now we've really got to get up." He bent over and picked up his clothes from the floor where they had fallen the previous night.

When he stood back up, Percy was clutching the sheet. His breathing was heavier with each intake. "Oliver," he whispered. He reached over to the night table and grabbed the lubricant. "_Get back into bed_." He unscrewed the cap, eyes unwavering. "Lie down on your stomach." Two fingers thrust in the jar and came out glistening. "And spread your legs."

Quidditch could wait, Oliver thought, as he felt his knees go weak and the clothes slide out of his hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Puddlemere United was playing the Tutshill Tornados the day after next.

"Crap," said Penge, the coach, as he paced the men's locker room. "That's what their Chasers are. Total crap." The male players, both regular and reserve, watched as he walked back and forth between the bench and the wall. "Wood, I think I'll put Barringer in for the first fifteen minutes or so – if the match lasts that long. Make sure they're intimidated. Then I plan on giving her a break and putting you in for rest of the match."

Oliver nodded. Perfect. The Tornados might as well have lost already. 

"Their Seeker, I'll admit, is excellent," continued Penge. "Douglas, I want you playing the whole match. Beaters…Jackson, I want you, Pritchard's arm could use another week off." Stuart Pritchard, the largest player in the history of the league, had been knocked off his broomstick and had landed squarely on his left arm during Puddlemere's most recent match against the Appleby Arrows. "All right. Be on the pitch in five minutes." With a sharp turn, Penge exited the locker room.

"Make sure you give them hell for me," said Pritchard to Reginald Jackson. Jackson slapped him on the back.

There was a loud sound of creaking metal as the locker doors opened.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Oliver returned home at noon, there was a desk sitting in the doorway. Mundungus was lifting one end – the one still in the corridor – and Percy was lifting the other.

"Where in the bloody – ow – hell did you get this thing?" Mundungus grunted. "It must weigh as much as a half-grown giant."

"I inherited it from my uncle Bilius," Percy said, glancing over his shoulder into the sitting room.

"He's dead?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're well shut of him, then. Oy, Wood, where do you want this thing?"

"Where do you want it?" Oliver asked Percy.

"I was thinking the west wall of the sitting room. You can have the library for yourself again."

"You were _thinking_?" Mundungus roared. "You'd better _know_, because in another second my bloody _arm_ is going to fall off, and – oh, thanks, Wood." Oliver had taken his end of the desk.

"Be quiet, you mangy git," said Mrs. Figg from the couch. "You're disturbing Sapphira Elise."

"Who?"

Curled up on the armchair farthest from the door, next to Mr. Tibbles, was a very pregnant Siamese cat. She looked up at Oliver suspiciously.

"I told Mrs. Drummond that I had some prospective owners for a kitten, and they might like to see the mother," Mrs. Figg said. "So she lent me Sapphira Elise Esmeralda Lucinda whosit whatsit Nadia for the day."

Oliver and Percy set the desk down and went over to examine Sapphira Elise. She was very beautiful; her coat was shining and well-kept, her face was alert and intelligent. Tibbles rubbed his head against her back and purred.

"Maybe the kittens will have blue eyes like hers," Oliver said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time Oliver and Percy went to bed that night, they were both completely exhausted. After weeks of work, the Recruitment Department had only managed to get three confirmed new members. List after list was going through further examination.

"Well, we always knew it would be a long and tedious job," said Oliver as Percy took off his glasses and turned off the light. "We've got to be as certain as we can that they're on our side. Besides, all the new members are abroad, so that's an advantage."

"I suppose," said Percy. There was a weary and distant note in his voice.

Oliver saw the shadowed outline of his face in the gray darkness. "Perce?"

"My parents think that moving in with you is rash."

Oliver rested his head on his lover's shoulder. "My father as well as my mother," Percy continued, "which makes it worse. If it were only my mum I could say that she was overreacting, but my dad – he had this sort of tired look on his face. Like this was the last thing he needed. Then he said that he liked you a lot and he was glad that we loved each other, but he thought I needed to consider the consequences and remember that we've only been together a month." He sighed. "I spent my entire life considering consequences, and it never got me anywhere."

Oliver turned and cupped Percy's face with his hand. "We'll show them it's the best impulsive decision we ever made."

Percy looked at him. "I still don't regret it."

"Me neither. I hope we never do."

Percy rested his hand on top of Oliver's. "What about _your_ parents? Do they even know I exist?"

Oliver cringed. "Not yet. It's not that I'm ashamed of you," he added quickly, "but I haven't had the time to see them since we got together. They know I broke up with Ian, though."

"I bet they were thrilled."

"Well, they were mad about Ian. I mean, my mum was practically planning the commitment ceremony. But they weren't upset, really – "

"And now you've not only broken things off with their ideal son-in-law, you're living with an impoverished former Ministry drone whom you've dated for a month."

"Look, love, they won't think any of that once they get to know you."

"I've never even met them."

"You will. I'm having lunch with them tomorrow, I'll bring it up then. And the day after tomorrow Puddlemere's playing the Tutshill Tornados. I want you to come and see it, it looks like I'm going to get decent playing time. You can meet them beforehand and afterwards we can come back here for dinner."

Percy groaned. "I wish something was simple for once."

Oliver kissed him on the earlobe, long and tenderly.


	24. Part Three, Chapter Two

Part Three, Chapter Two

When Oliver arrived at the coffee shop just before noon, Ian was already there, standing next to the door. Upon seeing Oliver, he stubbed out his cigarette and smiled. "Percy stayed home?"

"No," said Oliver, "he had to go into work early."

"Too bad. He still hasn't told that Minister of yours to shove it?"

"Not yet."

Inside, they ordered and sat down at a table by the window.

"All right," said Ian, stirring his cappucino. "You're just going to have to tell them. In a logical and rational tone. If you act any less than completely mature, they'll take it and use it as evidence against you."

Oliver smiled. "Evidence against me?" That reminded him of Sirius Black, which in turn reminded him that he ought to go and see Remus soon.

"My roommate wants to be a barrister," Ian said. "It rubs off. Anyway, I'm glad they're meeting Percy tomorrow, that way they won't have much time to form opinions before they know him."

"My dad will," said Oliver. "My dad can form opinions in the time it takes to blink an eye. And Perce is awkward around strangers. You've seen him."

"Yes, but it's a sweet sort of awkward. Cute, really."

Oliver propped his elbow up on the table and rested his chin in his hand. "Ian, do you fancy my boyfriend?"

"No, I merely appreciate his considerable attractions." He twitched his eyebrows and grinned. "Besides, I haven't got time to fancy your boyfriend. I've got another date with Arnaud tonight after class. God, are all French blokes good kissers?"

"The one I dated was."

"Just gorgeous," Ian moaned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oliver's parents exchanged long looks.

"And you've known him a month?" his father asked at last.

"I've _known_ him for years, I've dated him for a month."

"I don't remember him," said Michael, squinting as though it would improve his memory. "Was he that sort of broad one who ate all the time?"

"You're thinking of Lane. Percy's got red hair and wears glasses."

His father blinked. "That scrawny kid with the long nose?"

"Michael!" his wife exclaimed.

"He's not scrawny," said Oliver indignantly. "You can't have seen him since we were, let me think, fourteen or so. And his nose is _fine_."

Anne Wood recrossed her legs and sighed. "Ol, I know it's very exciting and romantic to decide things on the spur of the moment, but I don't want you to take this lightly. Moving in with someone isn't always fun, you know. You get into fights about who was supposed to make dinner and dirty socks on the floor. Sometimes you annoy each other."

"I know all that, I know it's a big decision."

"And big decisions take time to make."

A memory of Remus flashed across Oliver's mind, quiet and sad. He took a deep breath. "Mum, we're both fighting agaist Volde – You-Know-Who. For all we know, we haven't got much time left."

Both of his parents froze. His father's hand, holding a turkey sandwich, was suspended in midair. His mother's mouth was half-open.

"Well," she said finally, "I can't argue wit that."

Michael's hand came down quickly upon the table and hastily dropped the sandwich. "So," he said abruptly, "what're the odds that Puddlemere will beat the Tornados?"

His wife's mouth became very set in a hard, rigid line. She poured herself another glass of water and set the pitcher down too hard.

Oliver hesitated, and then said, "We're expecting to win."

"I would too, if I were you. Douglas and Lellenold are fairly evenly matched, but the rest of their team is nothing compared to Puddlemere. Not since Flendish and Abbot retired."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm going to die," Percy moaned. "My nerves are going to explode and I'm going to die. What am I supposed to talk with them about?"

"Are you trying for a standing ovation?" Mundungus asked.

"You'll barely be alone with them," Oliver assured Percy. "Only during the match, and they won't want to talk then anyway."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," said Mrs. Figg, counting stitches. Much to Mundungus's consternation, she was knitting a jumper for Mr. Tibbles. "I remember when I met Mr. Figg's parents for the first time," she continued. "I was terribly nervous. It wasn't considered wise, you know, marrying a Squib."

"Especially a batty one who's never heard of shoes," Mundungus added.

"But, as you can see, I survived unscarred – "

Mundungus snorted.

" – and they eventually accepted me into their family. Mundungus, do you have anything useful to do?"

"Yes," he said with a stubborn glare. 

"Well, I have yet to see any evidence of it," she snapped. Percy threw Oliver an anxious look. "You spend these meetings wasting time and being in everyone's way."

Mundungus crossed his arms over his chest, a hardened look coming over his face. "It ain't my fault that Dumbledore don't like my lists."

"Well, who would! There's no point in having more thieves in the Order if the one we already have doesn't even – "

"Look," said Oliver hastily, "we're all under a lot of strain, and we're doing our best – "

"No, Wood, let her finish," said Mundungus, his eyes fixed on Mrs. Figg.

She was silent.

"I'm first to admit I ain't perfect," said Mundungus, standing up and beginning to pace the room. "Never said I was. But I'm insulted, Figgy, I really am. I know I take the mickey out of you know and then, but I never thought that you'd think so low of me as to think that I don't care about the Order." He stopped and turned to face the couch. "If anyone's wanting me, I'll be at Ali Bashir's flat for the rest of the day." And he disappeared with a particularly loud crack.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"They're being stubborn," said Percy that night as Oliver was brushing his teeth. "And they're not going to apologize until something makes them do it, knowing the two of them."

"If either one of them takes the initiative, it'll be Dung," Oliver said after he'd rinsed his mouth. Noticing Percy's surprised look, he continued, "He cares what she thinks about him, even if he doesn't care about most other people."

"How do you know that?" Percy asked. He was looking in the mirror and poking a spot on his forehead.

"He calls her Figgy, and no one else does. You don't give a person a nickname unless you care something about them."

"I think we ought to make them reconcile," said Percy as the two of them climbed into bed.

Oliver sighed. Perpetually trying to be in control, that was his Percy. "It won't work. They'll just resent us for interfering and they'll feel insulted by people over thirty years younger than they are telling them what to do."

"I just thought I'd suggest it," said Percy, sounding a bit annoyed, "because I wish someone had made me apologize to my family before I did."

"But would you have listened?"

Percy bit his lip. "No."

The look on his face was so tender and sincere that Oliver kissed him. "Sometimes people learn more if they figure things out on their own."

Percy laid his cheek on Oliver's chest. They were both shirtless; Oliver was wearing boxer shorts and Percy was wearing a pair of faded pajama bottoms. Oliver lifted his lover's arm and let his lips graze the downy hair. Percy lowered his eyes. "What're your parents like?"

"Well…they're intense," said Oliver after a couple of seconds. He set Percy's arm back down and being to caress the soft skin of the inner elbow. "_Really_ intense. I didn't realize how much I'd inherited that until I captained Gryffindor and your brothers made fun of my pre-game speeches." He laid his hand lightly over Percy's. "Does it bother you if I mention them?"

"No," said Percy, but a moment later his forehead creased and he let out a frustrated noise. "I just hope your parents like me, because I'm sick of fighting."

Oliver turned on his side so that he could place his hands on Percy's back. "I know," he said, wishing that fifteen years had passed, that Voldemort was destroyed, that he and Percy were older with stable lives, perhaps a few kids, schedule and order. "They will, I think. I mean, they liked Gerald – he came before Ian – and he was a bit of a mental lightweight."

Percy laughed, a sound that made Oliver's shoulders relax and his mouth spread into a contended smile. "Not the brightest candle in the chandelier?"

"Not the dimmest either, though."

"So who was before Gerald?"

"Jonathan. I met him at a drag show."

"Oh, you did not."

"I did! This friend of Ian's called Miss Clarinda was in it – "

"_Miss Clarinda???_"

"Yeah, so we went to see – her. Jonathan was the announcer."

Percy slid on top of Olvier and began to lightly twist his lover's hair around his fingers. "And before him?"

"Reginald."

Percy snorted. "Is that a pseudonym to protect the innocent?"

"Oh, Reginald was _not_ innocent. He worked in a porn shop."

Laughter. One thigh rubbing between Oliver's legs. At that moment, Oliver decided that nothing was more adorable than Percy when he wanted sex. "I'm not kidding. He did."

"And what – " Percy was practically purring now " – were you doing in a porn shop?"

"Erotic novels don't grow on trees, you know."

Percy nipped at Oliver's chest. "Really."

"Really. And speaking of erotic novels, I noticed that my copy of _Phallanthropist_ is in the kitchen."

"I'm used to reading as I eat." He ran his nails down Oliver's chest and smiled and the pleasurable shudder. "And who was before Reginald?"

"Some bloke. We still keep in touch. As a matter of fact, he's touching me right now."

Percy thrust his hands under the waistband of Oliver's boxers. "No penetrating me," Oliver groaned, gasping for breath as Percy began to vigorously bite his neck. "I have to ride a broomstick tomorrow."


	25. Part Three, Chapter Three

Part Three, Chapter Three

There were two things Oliver had always appreciated about Remus Lupin; his calm nature and his ability to listen. Therefore, it was Remus whom he visited at eleven o'clock, the night after the Quidditch match.

"You flew in the rain?" asked Remus as he opened the door to 12 Grimmauld Place. His hair was untidy and he was wearing a teal dressing gown.

"It wasn't raining when I started out." Oliver pulled a wet sleeve away from his arm.

Remus sighed. "Come in."

The parlor of the house looked as if it were part of a haunted manor – lavish, dusty, and decrepit. There were large patches of dark wallpaper where portraits had once hung. The legs of the furniture were carved into ornate feet with ominous claws. Only the emerald teapot on the end table looked reasonably hospitable. It seemed that Remus had just made tea; a small trail of steam care from the spout of the pot.

"There are towels in the bathroom," said Remus. "I'll go get you something to wear."

Oliver wasn't sure what Remus had in mind – his former teacher was significantly thinner than he was. Nevertheless, he proceeded to the bathroom and stripped off his wet clothes. The thick towels felt wonderful against his skin.

Remus knocked on the door a minute later. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you anything else," he said, his voice muffled by the wall. Oliver opened the door a few inches and stuck out his hand. At first he thought Remus was giving him another towel – it had the same feel. As he pulled his hand back through the door he discovered it was a terrycloth dressing gown.

It was a dark red, with large pockets and a trailing sash. As Oliver put it on, he noticed a smell; not an unpleasant smell, but a strong and distinctive one. Sniffing again, he realized that it was actually two smells combined. One was lavender and the other was something that seemed to be hovering in the back of his consciousness.

"I put my clothes in the bathtub," he said to Remus after he came out.

"That's fine." Remus had gotten two teacups, which stood next to the pot. "I'm sorry that it's a bit snug for you, it was the best thing I could find."

"It's okay." Oliver joined Remus on the davenport and poured them both some tea.

"Thank you. So," said Remus as he took the cup Oliver passed him, "what brings you here?"

"Just needed to vent to someone sane."

Remus smiled wryly. "I'm glad to hear I meet your definition."

Oliver sipped. Then he said, "Percy and I are having a bit of a fight."

"I wondered if that weren't the case."

"It's mostly his fault. No – it's mostly my dad's fault. No, forget that, it's Voldemort's fault."

"Ah, the source of all problems."

Oliver couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Things started off all right this morning."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You know," I'm not going to let you get away with that 'I have to ride a broomstick' excuse forever," said Percy. He was taking a bath as Oliver shaved. "You ride one nearly every day."

"Yes, and it hurt like hell. You weren't exactly…controlled."

"And you liked it. I could _feel_ you like it."

"Until I got to practice." Oliver rinsed off his razor.

"If what's-his-name – Dai Whosit – could get used to it, so can you." Percy set down the soap and picked up the shampoo bottle, humming something tuneless but cheerful.

His seeming lack of nervousness intrigued Oliver. "Are you worried about my parents at all?"

"Not really. They raised you, it's not like they've got fangs."

"That's where you're wrong. My mum's got huge fangs, over an inch long. Sharpens them nightly."

Percy splashed him. Oliver turned on the sink's tap and splashed back. "Bad aim, Weasley."

"You don't know where I was aiming for."

"No, but I bet it wasn't my foot."

Before he could shut his mouth a torrent of water hit him on the mouth. He threw down his razor and climbed into the tub, amidst Percy's gleeful protests.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It was only after breakfast that things started to go downhill." Oliver wished he had some sugar for his tea, but Remus hadn't offered any and Oliver wasn't about to ask. "Mundungus showed up just as we were doing the dished and wanted to know if we'd let him spend a few nights on the couch."

"I don't think his idea of 'a few nights' is exactly like other people's."

Oliver snorted. "Yeah, that's what I said. Don't get me wrong, I like Dung and all, but the rent on my flat isn't exactly cheap. And Percy just moved in – well, you know how it is. I wanted us to have some time for ourselves."

"Of course." Remus stirred his tea.

"Wasn't Dung living at Ali Bashir's flat?"

"Yes, he was. Ali came back last night after four months abroad."

Oliver looked up, surprised. "Did Dung tell you that?"

"Yes. He was here this afternoon."

Oliver glanced hurriedly around the room, as if he expected Mundungus to be lurking in the corner. Remus laughed. "Don't worry, Oliver, I didn't let him stay. There isn't room anyway."

"Good." Oliver exhaled. "Did he tell you about the fight with Mrs. Figg?"

"In great detail."

"God. So, anyway, he turns up at ten o'clock in the morning and wants to move it. Got his trunk and everything. And then Percy – _Percy_ – wants to let him." Oliver set down his teacup harder than he'd meant to; Remus jumped slightly. "Percy! Percy, who thinks that everyone should work hard and get what they deserve. It's like he thinks he has to have a one hundred and eighty-degree personality switch to prove to me he's changed. Well, he doesn't. I liked him fine before, mostly – not when he pulled that prissy defensive crap, but the rest of the time." He remembered that Remus was unemployed, and added, "Don't get me wrong, I don't think everyone who doesn't work is scum, but Dung's taken it to the point of a career. That, and stealing."

"I agree."

"So Percy's going on about how it'll just be a few days, and I'm hissing under my breath that it won't be, and the whole time Dung's standing in the other room. And then I said – I _know_ this was dumb, Remus, don't tell me – I said to Percy that I was the one who paid the rent, and I'd decide who lived there."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Well, I'm glad you _decided_ I could move in with you, then."

"Christ, Perce, I didn't mean – "

"I suppose it doesn't mean anything to you that I'm still paying rent on my own flat, which I could easily move back into – "

"You know you don't mean that."

Percy's head snapped to face Oliver. "Don't tell me what I mean."

"Look, love, we can split the rent next time it'd due, but the fact is that I paid it this month, and…and I don't want Dung sleeping on the couch." He reached forward and gently traced Percy's jawline with one finger. "Come on, I want some time for us."

"And what about Mundungus?"

"He can find somewhere else."

"That's compassionate."

"Percy, it isn't my fault that he doesn't work."

Percy pulled away from Oliver's touch. "You've never know what it's like to be poor."

__

Bloody hell, not the money thing again, Oliver thought. "And you've never known what it's like to be lazy."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I imagine that didn't go over well."

"Yeah." Oliver put his teacup – now empty – on the table and leaned his head against the davenport's armrest. "By the way, do you want to sublet Percy's flat?"

Remus smiled. "No, thank you."

"Are you ever moving out of here?" Exhaustion always made Oliver blunt.

"Yes, quite soon." Remus pushed a piece of hair back off his face; in the dim light, Oliver could see the stark lines on his face. "I have a house in the countryside; I'm moving back there." Noting Oliver's intrigued look, he added, "Sirius bought it with inheritance money his uncle left him."

"Oh." And then, "So in the end Dung left, but Percy was about ready to kill me." He stood up and began to pace the room. "Is it too much to ask for, a flat without Mundungus Fletcher sleeping on the couch?"

"Hardly."

"Well, according to Percy, I've committed some sort of mortal sin. And I _said_ to him, 'Why don't you let Dung stay in your flat?' and he said that the landlord wouldn't like it. God." He reached the wall and started across the room again. "I'm beginning to think he's too immature to live with someone, but I don't _want_ to think that, do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I do," Remus said. His look grew thoughtful. "You know, I think he's always been a bit immature, now that I think about it. It isn't immediately visible – he takes on so much responsibility – but he's really quite young." His eyes went back into focus. "Emotionally, I think you're older than he is."

"Probably."

"That doesn't mean you can't be with him, though." The distant look returned. "It doesn't mean that at all."

Oliver wondered if he ought to have disturbed Remus in the first place. Perhaps it had been unkind.


	26. Part Three, Chapter Four

Part Three, Chapter Four

Just as Oliver was about to ask if he should leave, a loud knocking sound echoed throughout the house. Remus stood.

"Either the Death Eaters have become very polite, or we have company," he said briskly. "Stay here." With that, he left the room.

Oliver felt his body freeze and constrict. It couldn't be the Death Eaters. Death Eaters would attack directly. Unless they thought the Order were so weak that they could be easily caught off guard…

__

My wand is in the bathroom, he thought. It was possible he could dash for it, as long as – 

"OLIVER WOOD!"

Percy burst into the room. Wet curls were plastered to his forehead; his glasses were rain-spattered. In three long strides he crossed the room and grabbed Oliver by the shoulders. "DO _NOT_ PULL THIS CRAP ON ME AGAIN!" He shook him; startled, Oliver could not respond. "Do you know what it's like to wake up and not have any idea where your lover is?"

"I – I left you a note," Oliver stuttered.

"You left me a note saying that you'd be back by around one in the morning. You did _not_ tell me where you were, you did _not_ say why you had left – how could you be so goddamned stupid!?" His face was flushed; his eyes were bright. "I had to fly all around England and Scotland looking for you, I tried everywhere from Ian's house to the Puddlemere pitch to the Burrow to even the bloody Ministry. I didn't know if you'd been hurt or if the Order needed you or – AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NAKED EXCEPT FOR A DRESSING GOWN?"

"He flew here in the rain," said a quiet voice. Remus was standing in the doorway. "His clothes were soaked so I gave him something else to wear."

Percy's hands dropped from Oliver's shoulders. He looked at Remus and then away, his face a vivid shade of scarlet. "I – I didn't mean that – I – "

"That's all right," said Remus, his voice somewhere between exasperated and amused. "It sounds like you've had a very trying day."

"What, did Oliver come here to tell you I'm a complete nutter who screamed at his dad?"

"He came here because he's concerned about you," Remus said simply. "So far, he's told me about Mundungus Fletcher and not much else. And he's under no obligation to," he added quickly.

"He might as well go ahead," said Percy wearily.

Oliver hesitated. "Perce, let's go home."

"No, go on, go ahead. You've already gotten Lupin up – "

"I was awake when he arrived."

" – and if he's heard the first half, he might as well hear the rest."

Oliver sighed. "Basically, Percy got into an argument – "

"Screaming match."

" – argument with my father. Perce mentioned something about the Order and my dad said he didn't want to hear it."

"So then I started yelling that it was people like him who got us into the mess we're in now. Which is, of course, hypocritical of me seeing as I – "

"We're going home."

"We're not."

"We are."

"You're not."

Both of them looked at Remus, surprised. "You're not," he continued, "because it's just past midnight and I saw lightening a few seconds ago." He studied Percy for a moment. "You don't drink very often, do you."

"No," Percy snapped. "And I've only had one."

"Then it looks as though you're the type of person who shouldn't have any."

Percy turned towards Oliver. "I'm not drunk," he insisted. "Really, I'm not."

"No, but what you did have isn't helping you any." No wonder the Weasleys thought their relationship was rash. Practically everything Percy _did_ was rash.

"You two can sleep in my room tonight," said Remus. "I'll take the davenport for the night."

Oliver was too tired to argue; he nodded. "Follow me, then," Remus said.

The stairs groaned as they proceeded upstairs, and one section of the banister was loose. Oliver speculated that if the house hadn't belonged to a pureblood family it would have come in contact with a wrecking ball long ago. On the second floor Remus led them down the corridor and opened the second door on the left.

It was a fairly small room. Next to the right wall was a double bed, very neatly made with a blue quilt. Two wardrobes stood against the left wall; between them was a door that led to a bathroom. There were no windows. The small bookcase was completely full and several stacks of books were piled beside it.

"You'll need something to wear to bed," said Remus to Percy. He opened the wardrobe on the left and took out a light green nightshirt. "Is this all right?"

"Yes, thank you."

"All right. If you leave your wet clothes outside the door I'll wash them for you. Good night." And with that Remus left the room, shutting the creaky door behind him.

Percy turned around slowly, taking in his surroundings. "You can tell it's his," he said. "Sort of worn out but neat at the same time."

Oliver sat down on the bed. "You need to get some sleep," he said softly. 

Percy seemed to agree; he undressed quickly, put on the nightshirt, set his clothes outside the door, and turned off the light. In the darkness they pulled back the quilt and slid under the smooth sheets.

Oliver ran a hand through Percy's wet hair, feeling the faint heat of his lover's head under the cold curls. He rested the other hand on Percy's chest. "You've got to stop doing this sort of thing."

Percy opened his eyes. "What?"

"Getting emotional and starting your 'screaming matches', as you call them. Starting dramatic scenes and saying things you wish you hadn't. Look, love, I know you're going through a difficult time right now. Believe me, I know that. But you need to get some kind of control of yourself, for your own sake if not for anyone else's. You can't live your life like this."

Percy was silent for a moment, then rested his cheek against Oliver's arm. "I don't know what gets into me," he said. His voice was solemn and held no note of self-pity. "Sometimes I just lose all reason and – I'm sorry, Ol."

"I know you are, beautiful."

"Your dad had this sort of cold voice and suddenly I thought: His son could be dead tomorrow and here he is talking about Quidditch. It struck me as, as so absurd, and so meaningless, and before I knew it I was – that's not an excuse."

Oliver kissed his ear. "I'll help you, Perce," he murmured. "But you've got to be willing to help yourself. You've got a job, and a war, and a lover. If you want to do adult things you have to act like an adult."

"But you'll love me if I make mistakes." It was half a question.

"If I didn't I wouldn't be worthy of you."

Percy put his arms around Oliver and breathed deeply. "Love you."

"Love you too, Percy Ignatius."

"Oliver – what's you middle name?"

"Edward."

"Better than Ignatius."

"_Infinitely _better than Ignatius."

"Shut up. It was my mum's godfather's name."

"Poor bloke." After a second, Oliver realized something. "Did you say you flew here?"

"Yeah. I left my broom by the front door."

"You couldn't fly when we were in school."

Percy looked up and smiled. "Oh yes I could."

"What?"

"I lied."

"You lied!"

"Thought I'd ride tandem with you and get the chance to feel those muscles."

"Devious little sneak."

"It worked." He put both hands on Oliver's chest and squeezed.

Oliver pretended to be affronted. "Oh, I see," he said teasingly, "you only wanted my body. My brilliant mind meant nothing to you."

"Your brilliant mind meant everything to me." Percy nuzzled Oliver's neck. "Everything else was a nice bonus."

"Go to sleep, you git."

"Likewise."

They shifted about in the bed and closed their eyes. Percy was twitchier than usual; after five minutes he was still rolling over and kicking his legs. "Ol," he said at last, "can you do something about that dressing gown? The smell is driving me mad."

"I can't just take it off."

"Why not?"

"This isn't our bed."

"He'll probably change the sheets tomorrow anyway."

"Fine, then. But we're not making love in here."

"I didn't _ask_ you to do that," said Percy. Oliver imagined that he was rolling his eyes. "Just get rid of that thing so I can get some rest."

Oliver undid the sash and pulled the dressing gown from his body. Too tired and careless to fold it, he flung it across the room. It hit the wall and slid to the floor.

"Thanks," Percy muttered. His voice was beginning to sound far away. "That thing smelled like a wet dog."

Within minutes he was asleep. 


	27. Part Three, Chapter Five

Part Three, Chapter Five

Somehow Oliver knew that Remus would wash their clothes then, rather than wait until the morning. He climbed out of bed and picked up the dressing gown from the floor. He felt like a blasphemer staying in this house, wearing this dressing gown, sleeping in this bed. It was clear to him now that he should not have come to Grimmauld Place that night. Oliver had always been a believer in privacy, and to him it seemed that he had violated it – and not only privacy but grief, which can be the ultimate personal state.

But if he were to be dressed he had no choice but to wear the dressing gown again. He slipped it on, slowly. Despite what Percy thought, the smell was not overpowering. It was subtle, as few things that night had been. Once he was dressed Oliver opened the door and waited for Remus.

He arrived several minutes later, with a neat stack of clothes in his arms. "Oliver, go to bed!" In that moment he was Professor Lupin again. "It must be nearly – "

"Could you wait here for a second?" Oliver asked. Ignoring Remus's puzzled look he took the clothes from him. "Just one minute – "

Once he had closed the door Oliver undressed slowly and dressed quickly, throwing on his own clothes the way he did when Quidditch practice ran late and he needed to be on time for an appointment. After this he folded the dressing gown and carried it almost gently to the door.

Remus had waited. Feeling almost unbearably awkward, Oliver held out the dressing gown to him. "Thank you," he said softly. "It's – " And then his breath died in his throat and he did not continue.

He felt one of Remus's hands brush his as the other man took the garment from him.

"He would have liked you," Remus whispered.

Oliver embraced him; if he had intruded, he would amend.

A few seconds passed before Oliver felt a pair of long-fingered hands rest lightly on his back. "Now get to bed," he heard Remus say; his tone was not unkind. "Before Percy wakes up and realizes you're gone."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Oliver woke he did not know if it was day or night; the room had no windows and was completely dark. He got out of bed and fumbled for a light, but did not find one. Perhaps the house, in its age, had never been wired for electricity. Back under the blankets it was wonderfully warm. Percy was sleeping soundly, he breathing as even as the ticking of a clock. Oliver wondered if he was dreaming, and what images his mind held.

Oliver had dreamed of Sirius Black, a man he had never met.

He placed one hand on Percy's head and allowed his fingers to intertwine with the soft hair. Try as he might, he could never get enough of Percy's hair. Beautiful. Percy's entire body was gorgeous, especially after they had made love. Then he was trembling, fragile, flushed, glowing from a light sheen of perspiration, his eyelids lowered to display curly eyelashes resting on his freckled cheek.

As slowly and tenderly as he could, Oliver encircled his arms around Percy's waist and spooned up against him. Under the coarse hair and warm skin of Percy's chest he could feel his lover's heart, another rhythm to accompany his breath. In and out. Oliver wished that the rest of their life could be as steady and comforting as this.

"Ol…"

"I'm here, Perce. Just sleep."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oy, Wood, wake up!" There was a battering of frenzied fists on the door.

"Tell whoever that is to sod off," Percy mumbled.

"Breakfast is ready and there's news!"

"What time is it?" Oliver called.

"Seven o'clock. Now get up!"

"Who in the hell _is_ that?" Percy shouted.

"It's Celestina Warbeck," answered the speaker in a falsetto. "Who d'you think it is? It's _Dung_, you git!"

Bleary-eyed and irritable, Percy and Oliver got up and opened the door to find a very cheerful-looking Mundungus leaning against the opposite wall. "Got great news," he said, smiling in a very self-satisfied way. "Guess."

"Someone's finally told Fudge that his green bowler hat makes him look like an overgrown leprechaun," Percy ventured.

"Ha. No."

They stared expectantly. He grinned. "Guess again."

"Dung, we got about five hours or less of sleep last night – "

"Sapphira Whosit's had the kittens."

"Oh? That's good," said Oliver, mildly interested. "Now I believe I hear the pillow calling out to me."

"Wait a minute," said Percy. "If you know about the kittens, does that mean Mrs. Figg is speaking to you again?"

"She 'ad to," answered Mundungus. "See, Figgy's female cats are all spayed, so she's never had one give birth before. And the posh Muggle woman who owns Whosit panicked. So, seeing as I used to breed Crups, Figgy figured I'd know something so she sent for me to come over there."

Oliver bit his lip, trying not to smile. "I bet the posh Muggle woman just adored you."

"Stupid old cow. So, there are two Tibbles Juniors and three Whosit Juniors. Old Tibbles will be right proud when he sees them."

"I read once that tomcats sometimes eat kittens," said Percy.

Mundungus scowled. "Oh, there you are. That's nice. Poor little beast's just become a dad and you go an' accuse him of cannibalism."

A yawn escaped from Oliver's mouth. "Did you say something about breakfast?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the kitchen Remus was stirring porridge; Oliver's wand lay on the table. "Don't misplace it again," said Remus, barely looking up from the pot. "You should never be without it." Oliver nodded. 

Mundungus had taken a seat and extracted a small bottle from one of the many pockets in his overcoat. "So," he said, after taking a long swig, "What time is this meeting s'pposed to start?"

"A quarter to eight." A flick from Remus's wand extinguished the stove. "Is Arabella coming?"

"How should I know?" Mundungus kicked off his boots and set his feet up on the table. "She don't tell me a thing, just yells for me to do this or that."

"I didn't know there was a meeting," Oliver said.

"The owls were sent out late last night," said Remus as he rummaged through a drawer for spoons. "The entire Order is supposed to attend if they possibly can. Mundungus, could you please keep your feet on the floor?"

Mundungus obliged. "Don't s'ppose you would've liked me doing that at your place, eh, Wood?"

Percy spoke before Oliver could. "We would have taken you in but – "

Mundungus held up one hand. "Fine, I understand. If a bloke as nice as Remus won't let me move in, then you two prats can't be blamed." He winked and stuck the cork back in his bottle. "Found a place, though. Took me a long time. Guess where."

They glared.

"Just joking, just joking. I'm staying at the Burrow."

"You're not," said Percy, his eyes wide.

"I am. Told your mum I'd get rid of the ghoul in the attic if she let me stay."

Remus stopped ladling porridge. "You can perform a Banishment Curse?"

"No."

Remus rolled his eyes and set four bowls of porridge on the table. "Eat up, we've got about forty minutes before the meeting starts."

"I ought to get dressed," said Percy, pushing back his chair and standing up. "Can I use the shower upstairs? My hair must look like crap."

Remus smiled and said that Percy was welcome to the shower.

Once Percy had left, Remus sat down between Mundungus and Oliver. "Fudge knows about this meeting; all Ministry employees in the Order have the day off. Do you have practice today, Oliver?"

He shook his head. "We always get a day off after matches."

"You never told me how it went."

"We won."

"He intercepted fifteen goals," said Mundungus. "It was in the paper this morning."

"Impressive." Remus looked thoughtful. "This meeting might be quite long – then again, it could be over in two hours."

As he finished speaking the door on the opposite side of the room opened. "Are there any strawberries left?"

Oliver looked up and froze.

"No, I finished them off at dinner last night."

"Oh." The figure at the door's eyes landed on Oliver. "Hello."

"Hello, Ron."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The last time Oliver had seen Ron was at the Quidditch World Cup, for mere seconds. His body was doing what Percy's had done at that age – reached its full height and began to look less gangly. Ron sat in the place where Percy had been seconds before and reached for the porridge. "Please tell me it's not true."

Oliver's stomach leapt. "Tell you what's not true?"

"That you and Percy are working for the same department," said Ron casually, blowing on the top of the porridge to cool it off. "Because honestly, mate, I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

__

I am a Gryffindor, Oliver thought, _I am a Gryffindor_ – "No, it's true. We're both working for the Recruitment Department."

"Hard luck." Ron ate a bit of porridge. "This is good," he said to Remus.

"Thank you." Remus looked as though he was about to be ill – his face had gone very white and his forehead was creased.

"Did you make any coffee?"

"No, we're out of that as well. I thought I'd go shopping later in the day."

"Ron," said Oliver hastily, "there's something we need to talk about." Percy was not there and he would defend him in his absence. 

"Hmm?" Ron set down his spoon, put his elbow on the table, and rested his head in his hand. "Oh, I heard about the match, congratulations – "

"Ron." How did a person begin a conversation like this? "Percy's changed a lot since he came home."

"Since Mum dragged him home, you mean." Ron snorted with contempt. "Typical Perce, won't even admit – "

"Ron." It was Remus who spoke this time. "I think Oliver would appreciate it if you would let him finish."

Oliver swallowed. "He's changed," he said. "More than I ever hoped he would." His own voice seemed as though it was very far away. "He's joined the Order and done a lot of things that I consider to be very courageous. I know you won't want to hear this but he's your brother and his business is yours." Oh God. "Ron, I'm in love with Percy. And he's in love with me."

Ron laughed – it was a high, shaky, breathy sound. "What?"

"I love him."

"You – you – " Ron's voice was shallow and sounded almost as though someone was choking him. "Don't tell me you fell for that."

"I didn't fall for anything."

"He's – you – Penelope – can't – you – "

"Ron – "

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" Ron screamed. His eyes were wide; his back was rigid. "THIS IS PERCY WE'RE TALKING ABOUT! PERCY! ARE YOU STUPID? HE'S – AND HE'S NOT GAY EITHER, HE'S MANIPULATING – "

"Wood's telling the truth, Ron," said Mundungus softly. 

"You – I – " Ron shoved his chair into the back of the wall and began to run from the room. As he opened the door and attempted to leave he fell to the floor; he had collided with Percy, who was standing in the corridor. 

Percy dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Ron's shoulders. Like Remus, he was pallid. "Listen to me, Ron."

"I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU! YOU CAN'T ORDER ME AROUND ANYMORE, YOU CAN'T KEEP RUINING OUR LIVES – "

Percy shook him gently; tears were beginning to slide down Ron's cheeks. "You may never believe that I've changed, and honestly, I wouldn't blame you."

Ron pulled away and lay sobbing on the floor. It was terrible to watch, and impossible – Oliver had never seen Ron cry, had never seen him show any feeling beyond happiness and anger. It was unreal.

"You can call me anything you like," said Percy softly. "You can never speak to me for the rest of your life. I hope you don't do either of those things. But there's one thing I won't allow you to do. You will _never_ insult Oliver again."

The room became nearly silent, the only noise coming from Ron as he struggled for breath. As Oliver watched, Percy laid one hand on his brother's back.


	28. Part Three, Chapter Six

Part Three, Chapter Six

Ron endured a second of Percy's touch – perhaps more out of surprise than anything else, Oliver thought – and then violently jerked away. "I'm leaving," he muttered. His face was blotchy and tear-stained. "I'm leaving," he muttered as he stood. "Damn it, you – " He stopped short and ran out of the kitchen door, leaving it to slam behind him.

Of the remaining four people in the room Remus had maintained the most calm expression; for the first time, Oliver realized how many loud fights he must have endured in his life. "Let him go," Remus said. He turned back towards the table and stared downward at it. "He doesn't want to hear you right now."

"I don't care," Oliver said. He rose from his chair and helped Percy to his feet. "Go take your shower, Perce, I'm going to find him."

"Look, Wood, listen to Remus," Mundungus said at the same time that Percy asked, "What happened to not forcing people to reconcile?"

It was Percy to whom Oliver responded. "I don't care if he agrees with me. I mean, I do, but I just want him to hear what I have to say." Percy had come too far for this. His own remorse was penance enough for his sins; he felt he was unworthy of forgiveness but Oliver who loved him disagreed. Percy had been foolish and oblivious, but rarely dishonest. The strength of his lover's will redeemed him in Oliver's mind. Perhaps his mother had brought him home, but no one had made him join the Order. No one had forced him to return to a job he hated for its sake.

No one had coerced his love for Oliver.

"Can you and Dung represent the department?" Oliver asked. "I don't know how long this will take."

"He won't want to listen to you." Percy held one of Oliver's hands in each of his own. "I know he won't. He's too much like me."

Oliver pulled him closer; once he had done so he could see the slight trembling of Percy's lips. "Even back when we were in school, I thought you felt like no one heard you," he said softly. "Maybe he won't hear you, but he'll hear me whether he wants to or not."

"Then I'm going with you."

"Go to the meeting, love."

"_I said I'm going with you_," Percy said through clenched teeth. "I'm not going to let you go off and fight my battles for me."

"But you'll let me help?"

"Of course," Percy whispered. He brushed the side of Oliver's face with two long fingers, a delicate touch. "I'd want to help you when you needed it."

Oliver clasped Percy's hand and turned toward Mundungus. "Then I guess it's up to you at the meeting."

"And Charlie," Mundungus said. "He's apparating from Romania. And Figgy, if the kittens can spare her."

"We'll be in good hands." Oliver looked at Remus and tried to read his expression. It was impossible to tell, impossible to find anything past the cultivated blankness. But Oliver could see no anger, and that was what mattered the most.

"This place is enormous," Oliver said to Percy once they were out in the corridor. "How are we supposed to find him?"

Percy shrugged. "I guess we just have to look everywhere we can."

"Damn it. There's got to be some – oy! Mad-Eye!"

Alastor Moody had just come out of the dining room, a stack of papers under his arm and his magical eye spinning hurriedly. Upon hearing Oliver's call he fixed it on the two young men and squinted. "Yes?"

"Could you tell us where Ron is?" Percy asked.

"Why do you want him?" Moody asked suspiciously. Oliver got the impression that he would have regarded them just as warily had they asked for a glass of water.

"Because we need to talk to him," he said. "We'll find him whether you help us or not, but it'll save time if you could tell us where he went."

"You think he's in the house?"

"Yes."

"Good. This thing isn't exactly wonderful at long distance." Moody's eye rolled back in his head and then began to revolve like a globe. "Let's see…no, that's Bill…back staircase, between the second and third floors. Sitting with his elbow on his knee and his head propped up by his hand."

"Thank you," said Percy, and they took off down the corridor.

"I think the back staircase is this way," said Oliver, leading them back past the kitchen and toward the rear of the house. "Yeah, here it is." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I think I ought to go first. If he sees you he might take off."

"You're probably right." Percy stepped back and let Oliver proceed up the stairs. 

Ron was where Moody had said he would be, his eyes looking intently at the cracked banister. Oliver knew they must be in his peripheral vision but Ron did not move his gaze. Uneasily, Oliver sat down on the step below Ron, beside the place where his large feet rested. Percy sat one step further down.

"I need to talk to you," he began. No response. He sighed and tried again. "Ron, we aren't trying to make excuses for anything Percy did. I won't tell you it wasn't wrong, or that it didn't hurt you family. But if you want him to suffer, you don't have to do a single thing."

"I don't care if he suffers," Ron snapped, his head turning sharply towards Oliver. "To tell you the truth, Percy, I'm just tired of dealing with you. You think you're brave? You're not. You're doing the same bloody thing you've done all your life, looking out for your own best interests. You wait, Oliver. When the Death Eaters attack – and they will, Dumbledore thinks they've been quiet for far too long – he'll be gone. Hiding in his office with his papers and his books."

"If that's what you want to think I can't stop you," Percy said. "There's no way I can change your mind. But I want you to know that I know I was wrong. I'm not skirting the issue or pretending to be on the Order's side so that I can be back in our family's good graces."

"But let's say you are right, Ron," Oliver said. "Let's say Percy's a manipulator who only wants to protect himself. You can't deny he's intelligent, even if you won't admit he has a single other positive quality. Wouldn't he find a better way to do it than using me? Because honestly, between your mum and Dumbledore, he wouldn't have to use anyone to join the Order. And there are even more things that don't fit into your theory. He never asked to join the Order, it was my idea. He didn't make a single pass at me either. My idea again."

"When it comes to you, Ol," Ron said, "there's only two options. First, he's gay and he used Penelope for a cover-up. Second, he's straight and he thinks he can get what he wants by shagging you."

"Third, I'm bisexual," Percy said.

"As in, you can't make up your mind because you can't make up your mind about anything."

"As in I loved Penelope and I love Oliver. It isn't easy loving a man, you know. It's not some convenience that gets me what I want."

"It makes you look sympathetic," Ron retorted. "'Oh, poor Percy, no wonder he was such a complete arse to everyone, he was feeling misunderstood because he fancies blokes.' I'm not stupid."

"No, but you're as stubborn as I am," Percy said, standing up. "I've said what I wanted to say and there isn't any more I can do." He reached out a hand to Oliver. "Let's go home, Ol."

Percy was right; there was nothing left to be done.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As soon as Percy took his shower and they went home – they skipped the meeting entirely, not feeling like facing another stressful situation – Percy took out parchment and a quill from his desk and began to write letters. "This one's to Fudge," he told Oliver as he signed the bottom of the first one. "To tell him that I'm resigning my position as Junior Assistant and that I'm going to apply for another job somewhere else in the Ministry." He dipped his quill and started to write the second. "This one's an apology to your parents."

"Give me some of that," Oliver said. Percy handed him a sheet. "I've got a letter to write too." He pulled up a chair and set his parchment down on the corner of the desk.

"To who?"

"Jean-Marc. He's a friend of mine I met in France the summer before seventh year. First person besides the family that I was out to, introduced me to my first boyfriend and everything. I haven't seen him since last winter but we write all the time. I told him about you back when we were in school."

"Did you tell him how I used you? I hope you did." Percy raised his head and looked at Oliver. "If I were you, I wouldn't have taken me back."

"If you were me, you would have seen how much potential you had. Have."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night they made love slowly for the first time in their lives, taking time to experiment and to fully explore each other's bodies. When they had both climaxed Oliver climbed off of Percy – he had been straddling him – and folded him in his arms. "You won't have to be at work in the morning. If you want I can take the day off and spend it with you."

"No, go to practice. You've just had an excellent match, you don't want to do anything to jeopardize your career. Besides, someone has to go grocery shopping, there's barely any food left."

Oliver buried his head in the space between Percy's neck and shoulder. He meant to say something else, something about Ron, but then Percy began to stroke his hair and he was asleep within seconds.


	29. Part Three, Chapter Seven

Part Three, Chapter Seven

"Percy, you don't have to do all of this."

"I do if I want to stay sane," Percy said, taking the enormous list back from Oliver's hand. "Besides, the flat needs cleaning." He folded the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his dressing gown. "I think better when I'm working."

"Just don't overdo it," Oliver replied. He pulled back the blankets and set his feet on the floor. "Could you go shopping for groceries while you're at it? We're completely out of milk and eggs."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I hope you had time yesterday to rest on your laurels," Penge said. He was not pacing, as he usually did; his swift walk across the front row of the stands made him look like a man preparing for war. "Because as of now, you're finished. I'd like to tell you a story about when I played for the Liverpool Leopards in 1970."

Oliver stifled his groan before it escaped his mouth. Penge had three stock tales that he used for different purposes. If he was particularly pleased with the team's progress, he told the one about the 1942 Quidditch World Cup, at which his grandfather had been the commentator. If he thought they were showing a lack of teamwork, it was Hufflepuff's defeat of Ravenclaw in 1967; Penge had been the Hufflepuff captain.

The Liverpool Leopards in 1970 was reserved for times when he thought that the team were acting like arrogant egotistical wankers.

"I suppose you think that the next match is in the bag," Penge said. His voice was dangerously calm. "I suppose you think that losing to the Montrose Magpies was a fluke. Well, when I played Chaser for the Liverpool Leopards in 1970, we thought we were the best of the amateur teams. In our first match of the season we crushed – "

" – the Glasgow Gladiators," Oliver heard Barringer whisper under her breath.

" – the Glasgow Gladiators, two hundred to ten. After that, we defeated the Plymouth Pythons who, may I add, had been previously undefeated for the last – "

" – thirteen matches," muttered Snoad, one of the reserve Chasers.

" – thirteen matches. By the time we beat the Birmingham Batterers we thought we were unstoppable. It was by far our best season. About half the team thought they were going to be drafted to professional teams; a few of them were. A couple of the really ambitious players thought we might even make it into the League. 

"Our fourth match of the season was against the Manchester Mammoths. Practice by then was just a chance to show off. Our coach should have reigned us in but what did he know, he was only twenty-one and was still coming off of three years as the Slytherin captain."

Penge paused for dramatic emphasis. "We lost. We were brutally massacred. If it had been a war the Mammoths would have mounted our severed heads on pikes and displayed them on their bridges as a warning. The final score was two hundred and ninety to – "

" – twenty."

It was Jackson who had spoken; unfortunately, Penge heard him. "Yes, Jackson, twenty," he said sharply. "It seems you think you know this story by heart and don't need to hear it again. Well, you're one of the worst of the lot."

There was a communal gasp, and then utter silence. Penge was never slow to criticize a player's technique or strategy, but it was rare that he made personal comments. Transfixed, Oliver watched Jackson's face. The Beater had adopted a stoic front.

"You seem to have forgotten, Jackson, that a large fan base is not what keeps a player in the League. I don't care if you have twenty groupies waiting outside the locker room for you after each match. I don't care if your uncle was the star of this team thirty years ago. The fact is, you're a reserve player. On occasion I can stand the egos of the truly exceptional, but that's rare. Conceited stars can be bearable, provided they're good for the team. Conceited reserve players get replaced the minute they become a problem."

Penge set down the clipboard he had been holding and leaned against the railing. "You think you're irreplaceable? There's at least ten other Beaters waiting in the wings." He looked over the whole team. "And that goes for all of you. The rest of you are just lucky I picked Jackson and left you alone. These past months you've had your head in the clouds, and I don't mean flying. I don't coach swollen-headed prats. I coach dedicated players who put the game before their own ego. 

"I'm increasing the practice times. From now on, we meet every day from eight to three, except Sundays. Then we meet from one to five. We're going back to the basics, and I want your minds in the game and nowhere else. Not on your fans, Jackson. Not on your new mansion in the country, Douglas – yes, even you are not exempt. Gelsinger, forget about the photo shoots; during practice time your mind belongs to me. Nassing and Wood, the redheads can wait until you go home. Now go and get changed. I want you out here in five minutes."

Oliver's head spun as he followed the rest of the team back to the locker rooms. So Penge knew about Percy; he must have seen him with Oliver's parents outside the locker room after the match. Oliver thought back. Had he and Percy been obvious? He remembered that they had held hands, but nothing else came to his mind. _To hell with Penge_, he thought. _You've got bigger problems than him – and who said it's a problem, anyway? You aren't ashamed of Percy. Concentrate on the real issue._

Conceited reserve players were replaced the minute they became a problem. If Oliver knew Penge, the same was most likely true for reserve players who couldn't make afternoon practice, for reasons they couldn't say.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm sure we can meet later," Percy said anxiously. Oliver was sitting in one of the armchairs; Percy was perched at his feet. "We'll change the meetings to the evening. It won't be any trouble. Right?" He turned to Mrs. Figg and Mundungus.

Mrs. Figg cleared her throat. "Actually," she said softly, "we were going to tell you about the meeting at headquarters yesterday. Dumbledore is very anxious about the Death Eaters; during the first war, any silence on their part meant they were planning something big. Some of their most powerful members are in Azkaban. With each day an attack becomes more likely…Dumbledore wants us double the meeting times, if it's at all possible. It's either morning and afternoon or afternoon and evening."

"I'll work during the day," Percy said at once. "I'll make up for what Oliver can't do while he's at practice. We'll manage."

"You can't," Oliver said. The severity of the situation was fully settling in. "It will look odd if you don't go back to work within a few weeks or so. We're supposed to maintain the most normal front we can. If I quit Puddlemere it will attract notice. Damned if we do and damned if we don't."

"The Ministry was willing to let me cut my hours before," said Percy. As he spoke one finger unconsciously drifted towards his mouth. "Dumbledore can get them to do it again." As Oliver watched, he bit off a nail and licked the tip of his finger.

"Sounds like your best hope," Mundungus said, "but there's still a problem. The Ministry can only have so many employees that are using their jobs as a pretense, telling everyone they're at work while they're really working for the Order. Your dad was talking to me last night. The entire place has cut their hours so they can work against Voldemort, but there's still regular work to be done if society and that sort of thing is going to keep going."

Oliver glanced over at Mrs. Figg to see if she was smiling at the irony of Mundungus's words. Her face was unchanged.

"And honestly, Percy and I need two incomes," he said. "I can support us both on mine, but we're going to have to live without a lot. A _lot_."

Percy reached for Oliver's hand. "I'm used to that."

"It's the last thing you need," Oliver rejoined. "Look at how much stress you're under. I've only just gotten you to eat and sleep like a regular person. And – your nails, love, don't – we can't afford to have you in a constant state of tension. _I_ can't." He turned to Mrs. Figg. "Enough with all this. Tell me something good, something about the kittens."

"They're doing well," Mrs. Figg said hesitantly. "Mr. Tibbles saw them last night. Three of them look especially like him."

"I don't know how you can tell that," Mundungus said. "They're about the size of rats and haven't got their eyes open."

"They have his markings," Mrs. Figg retorted. "That's obvious. Really, you'd think that someone who worked with animals for ten years would know that – "

Oliver closed his eyes. Percy leaned his head against his lover's leg.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hold me for a while," Percy murmured that night after they had gone to bed. Sleep was beginning to overcome his voice. "I think we both need it."

Oliver rested his head against Percy's chest and gathered him up in his arms. "We'll be all right, beautiful. I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"Shut up. Yes I can."

__

And we will, he thought. _We have to be._


	30. Part Three, Chapter Eight

Part Three, Chapter Eight

"I've come to a conclusion," Percy said approximately two seconds after Oliver woke up the following morning. Percy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, several scribbled and discarded balls of parchment lying in a semi-circle around him. "You can't quit Puddlemere. Period. There's no half-convincing explanation I can think of for why you would quit, except the truth; besides, I couldn't possibly let you. We'd both go mad.

"Someone has to do what you can't do while you're at practice. That'll have to be me. Therefore, I need two things: an excuse to stay home and money to make up for the salary I won't be receiving. I can only think of two ways to get the latter. One, we sublet my flat and charge preposterous rent. Second, we sell _The Emerald Cloak_."

Oliver's mind had been in a hazy state until Percy reached the last sentence. "We can't," he said at once. "That's – no. That book is special to us, Perce. Forget it."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to give orders or talk to me like a rational human being?"

"I'm sorry," said Oliver, meaning it. "I really don't want to sell it. Things can't be that desperate."

"How much do you make a year?" Percy asked.

"Sixty-five thousand Galleons."

"Good for a reserve player." He wasn't sensitive about money anymore, Oliver noticed; they were both in the same boat now. "What's the rent on the flat?"

"Twenty-four thousand Galleons a year. Two thousand each month."

Percy stared. "For this place? Not that it's a trash heap, but – "

"It always costs more to live in an all-wizarding neighborhood," Oliver said. "A cousin of mine used to live in Hogsmeade, and she paid sixth thousand five hundred a month." He patted the space on the bed next to him, and Percy came to sit. "We don't need to sell the book, Percy. Really."

"How much do taxes take?"

"Fifteen percent. Nine thousand seven hundred and fifty Galleons per year."

"Which brings us to – I can't do maths in my head." He got off the bed, smoothed out one of the parchment balls, and began to write. "Thirty-one thousand two hundred and fifty. Divided by twelve…two thousand six hundred and four Galleons and a bit each month. About how much do you think we spend on food? Wait, you wouldn't know, I haven't lived here a month." He smiled wryly. "In fact, I've only lived here for…five days?"

Oliver thought. "Maybe a hundred Galleons per month. For food, I mean."

"What about your broomstick? Charlie told me once that professional players have them polished and things like that."

"My dad does it."

"So – " the quill scratched " – two thousand five hundred and four. Think about clothes and soap and all that sort of thing."

"Seventy-five?"

"Ol, that's probably what my entire family spends each month. You've got to be overestimating."

"Probably. I'm rubbish at finances. How about forty?"

"Two thousand four hundred and sixty-four. Is your – our – water bill included in the rent or is it separate?"

"Separate. One hundred and fifty a month."

"Two thousand – no, wait a second, I made a mistake – two thousand three hundred and fourteen." Percy set down his quill and took a deep breath. "Yeah. We'll have to sell the book."

Oliver stared incredulously. "Perce, that's two thousand whatever spare Galleons a month!"

"It isn't," Percy replied. His voice was very calm. "That's one thousand one hundred and fifty-seven Galleons for each of us to put in Gringotts for retirement funds. We haven't taken things like emergencies into account, nothing unexpected. It can't hurt to have some extra money lying around during a war."

"So we'll sublet the flat," said Oliver desperately. They _couldn't_ sell the book.

"The rent on that thing is four hundred Muggle pounds a month. It's tiny, it's cramped, and the people upstairs play loud music every night. So four hundred would go to the landlord, and…I don't even know how to sublet. Do we get something?"

"I think so. After all, we're the ones who are letting them use it."

"All right, let's say we get thirty percent. One hundred and twenty pounds. I don't know the exchange rates, but that can't be much in Galleons."

Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. "Are you positive we haven't got anything else to sell?"

"I haven't."

"I haven't either."

Percy got back onto the bed, slid on top of Oliver, and rested his head on his lover's chest. "I know you don't want to sell it, baby, believe me. But what other choice have we got?"

Oliver opened his eyes. "Since when am I 'baby'?"

"Since you got that really hurt look on your face."

"It's just…" Oliver ran a hand through Percy's hair and wrapped a curl around his fingers. "This is going to sound really, really stupid, but it's like I just realized that we're at war. I mean, until now, what have we done? Paperwork, safe in a flat – important paperwork, granted, but it's not exactly the most dangerous of jobs, is it? We end every day at a certain time; it's been a job, not a way of life.

"But if we have to sell it…then, well, we have to. Can we wait until tomorrow, though?"

"Of course." Oliver felt a soft kiss on his cheek.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I wanted to wait to open it until you got home," Percy said that afternoon, the second that Oliver shut the door behind him. He was holding a letter in his hand. "It's from your parents and it's addressed to both of us."

The pounding headache Oliver had had for the past two hours throbbed harder. He had pulled something in his back and each calf muscle felt like an elongated rock; when Penge meant business, he pulled out all the stops. "Can I get a bath first? I apparated home without showering." 

"Yeah, go ahead." Percy headed for the bathroom. Oliver wandered into the bedroom and took his dressing gown from the wardrobe.

He heard the rush of water as Percy turned on the taps. "Do you want it warm or hot?"

"As hot as you can get it." Perhaps he would dissolve and not have to think for a few hours.

Percy looked surprised when he saw the dressing gown. "Are you getting ready for bed already?"

"Either bed or a grave. I can't remember the last time I ached so much. In fact, I'm not sure if I ever have."

"I can rub your back when you're done with your bath," he said. "Is it going to be all right?"

"It should be." Oliver pulled his robe over his head. "If not, I'll sue Penge for damages and get lots of money that way."

He let himself soak in the bath until it began to go cold. Percy – who, Oliver realized, had never seen him in physical pain before – became very doting and insisted on helping him into his dressing gown and slippers. They sat on the couch in the sitting room and, after an apprehensive hesitation, opened the letter.

__

Dear Percy and Oliver,

We would like to start by saying that we were very touched when we read your letter, Percy. We weren't quite sure what to expect when we met you; Michael only had vague memories of you as one of Ol's roommates and I recall you as a quiet sort of boy who usually had a book with him. The thought of Oliver having a new boyfriend was a shock to us; not because of you personally, but because we were so fond of (and, admittedly used to) Ian, and we hadn't thought of them breaking up any time soon.

****

You've apologized already, and now it's mine (Michael's) turn. I'll start by saying that a lot of things change after you become a father, especially when you only have one child. A son is different than other sorts of relatives. He's a part of you in a way that no one else is; he's literally a part of your blood. In him you can see yourself and your wife, along with things that are solely his own and no one else's.

Anne and I found out shortly after Oliver's birth that we were only going to be able to have one child. We had hoped for at least four, if not five, so it was obviously a large change in plans. I think it's fair to say that I became very protective of him from the time he was quite young. You and he were born in a very tumultuous and dangerous time. I wonder today how those your age would be different had they been raised under different circumstances.

Ol, you've had a lot of challenges that I never foresaw for you. I've got to admit that the possibility of you being gay was something that never even entered my mind. It's an area where I'm unfamiliar, although your mum has been doing a lot of reading and she tells me that it's not so different from being straight in many respects. I'm used to teaching you. This is something you'll have to teach me.

I also never thought that your generation would see the rise of Voldemort – I was one of those who was nearly positive he was gone for good and no longer a concern. To be perfectly honest, you've sprung a lot of surprises on us in the last few months. First you told us you had joined the Order, then that you had broken things off with Ian, finally that you had a new boyfriend mere days afterward. Hopefully you can understand how I'm still processing it all.

I have a confession to make, Percy: I have friends in the Ministry and I inquired as to your history there. I hope you will forgive me when I tell you that it made me understand your anger towards Michael more than I initially did. Nothing can be more frustrating than seeing others made the same mistake that disrupted your life. You and Oliver have obviously been under a lot of stress that his father and I haven't, although we have been under a different sort of strain knowing that his life is potentially in danger.

****

When you brought up the Order, Percy, you were trying to find out who we were by discovering how we would react. I'm sorry I showed you a more cowardly side of my nature.

Here I'd like to say that I don't find it cowardly so much as ignorant.

Ol, we're happy that you have someone who cares so much about you. We hope this letter has mended any rift between us and that both of you will answer it as soon as possible.

Love, Anne – Mum, and **Michael – Dad **


	31. Part Three, Chapter Nine

Part Three, Chapter Nine

They wrote a hurried reply to Oliver's parents and stayed up late into the night. In celebration they opened a bottle of champagne and licked the bubbles off of each other's naked bodies, laughing as they became more and more inebriated. Percy's good mood was incandescent; he was unable to stop smiling and allowed Oliver to hand-feed him strawberries.

"Can't tell Remus about this," Oliver murmured as Percy opened his mouth and pointed to the strawberry bowl. "Bad idea. Shouldn't have let you get drunk."

"Shouldn't have let _you_ get drunk," Percy retorted. "'m not drunk."

"Yes you are."

" No'm not." He ran his tongue fleetingly down Oliver's neck. "Can I have another strawberry?"

Oliver reached over to the bowl. "How's this one?" he asked.

"It's got mold."

"No, it's just dark."

"Mold!" Percy insisted. He reached over to point to some imaginary fungus and promptly fell off the bed.

"Perce?"

Percy began to laugh, his voice breathy and his hands clutching the edge of the blankets. "Maybe I am drunk."

"Yeah." Oliver suspected he had licked up less champagne than Percy had, and set the bottle on the floor under the night table. "Come on. Back up on the bed."

"You come down here."

"No." Oliver got to his feet and bent down to lift Percy. "Arms around my neck."

Percy stretched his arms above his head. "Stay here. Let's make love on the floor."

"It's half before two – half _past_ two in the morning. Arms."

Percy reached out for him. "Oh, you're carrying me off to bed."

"Twice was enough." Oliver's head began to spin and he set Percy down immediately. His lover giggled – Oliver didn't think he'd ever heard a bloke over thirteen giggle before – and tried to pull Oliver on top of him. "Ol…"

"Come on, Perce, I'm tired, I have to go to work tomorrow."

"That coach of yours is a sadist," Percy muttered as he let his legs drop from around Oliver's waist. "Can't you lot unionize or something? Who hired him in the first place?"

"The team's owner."

"So sack the team's owner."

"Can't, he owns the team."

"Sell yourselves."

This struck Oliver as immensely funny and he lay down on the other side of the bed. "Percy, are you suggesting I become a prostitute?"

"If it means we can have a third go – "

"No."

"Please?" His tone was needy, perhaps exaggeratedly so. He ran one hand over Oliver's chest. "It's only half past two. I'll let you be rough again if you want."

"You liked that?"

"Yes. Or maybe I could be rough with you."

The offer was highly tempting, yet Oliver's muscles still ached and the clock was ticking threateningly. "Lie on your back," he whispered. Once obeyed he began to kiss up and down his lover's body, tasting the remains of the champagne and stopping tantalizingly just above the hips.

"Oliver, please…"

"Beg."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He woke the next morning to find Percy in the deepest of slumbers beside him. A 

strawberry seed lay on his lips. Oliver kissed it off and began to dress.

He felt no aftereffects of the champagne, except for a dry feeling in his mouth, until a sharp knocking at the front door shot through his eardrum and echoed in his skull. Muttering expletives under his breath, he quickly buttoned his robe and went to answer it.

"So." Ian stood at the front door, smiling softly. "I hear Percy is back in the Wood good graces."

Oliver exhaled. "Thank God. One conflict down, approximately two dozen left to go. Can you imagine being with someone your parents can't stand?" He stepped back to allow Ian into the flat.

"Unfortunately, I don't have to imagine it. My father thinks Arnaud is affected and my mother thinks he's effeminate and not my type."

"He isn't effeminate," Oliver said. "He's just dramatic and well-dressed."

"Yeah, well, my mum thinks that anyone who's not solid muscle and doesn't have the initials O. E. W. is absolutely wrong for me. You'd think my family'd given yours a goddamned dowry or something." Ian flopped down on the couch and groaned. "I won't stay long, I expect you've got to go ride your phallic symbol soon."

Oliver sat down on the couch's armrest. "Not until one o'clock. It's Sunday."

"D'you mind me whining for a bit? Don't worry, after a while I'll go away and leave you to your domestic bliss."

"Stay as long as you like. The domestic bliss is out cold."

Ian's eyebrows twitched. "Wild night?"

"Celebrating the letter. What do Agnes and Paul think about Arnaud?"

Ian began a long diatribe. Agnes thought Arnaud was fun but Paul was convinced that Ian was dating him just to annoy their parents. Of course, it didn't help that Paul had just gotten engaged to a woman Ian termed "creepily normal", who always wore long skirts and hardly ever smiled. Mrs. McTavish was convinced that Oliver had broken Ian's heart, or that Ian had broken Oliver's heart ("it depends on what sort of mood she's in") and didn't believe Ian when he said that both he and Oliver were very happy apart. 

Meanwhile, Arnaud had just argued with Jean-Marc, and Louis was on Arnaud's side – Arnaud had been his friend from Muggle primary school. Something about local politics. 

Percy came into the sitting room just as Ian was getting ready to leave; he had a class in half an hour. Percy was fascinated by the concept of university and asked Ian questions about it until the latter insisted he had to leave.

The second after Ian closed the door behind him there was a tapping at the window. Oliver discovered Ares outside and let him in. The owl carried not one letter but two.

Wood and Percy:

Can't make the meeting today, have got something else important to do. Figgy is sick in bed. Probably caught something from Sapphira Whosit, the weird little beast.

Percy, you ought to go and visit your family, as Ron has just come home and your mum says she hasn't heard from you in days.

Dung

__

Dear Oliver and Percy,

We were so relieved to get your letter, and I'm excited to write back with good news. As Oliver knows, I used to be a reporter for the Daily Prophet back during the first war, when they had an actual journalistic standard, and now they've asked me to come back and work for them again. Fudge has them under orders to print no more than three frivolous articles per paper, which means a good quarter of the staff has been sacked. I hope I can be of help.

Things are going to be very busy around here for the next few days, which unfortunately means that we won't be able to see you until Puddlemere's match on Thursday with the Holyhead Harpies. Best of luck!

Much love, Mum – Anne

"Blimey," Oliver said. "She hasn't worked since I was born."

Percy was studying the letter. "She says she hopes she can be of help," he said. "Notice how unspecific that is. Same thing with Dung's letter, both of them are being careful not to write anything that directly links us to the Order." He ran one hand through his hair. "Today's Sunday, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I don't have to go to work until this afternoon."

With a sigh, Percy took both of Oliver's hands in his own. "We ought to sell the book."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They spent breakfast very quietly, each thinking his own thoughts. Afterwards they quickly prepared to leave, tying shoes and closing windows without saying a word. On the staircase to the street they did not hold hands; each took one end of _The Emerald Cloak_, and it was a bridge between them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh sweet Merlin," Theo said, his eyes wide and a laugh in his voice. "_Wow_."

"Things change," Oliver said, slipping one arm around Percy's waist and grinning at Theo's amazement. Of course, the last time Theo had seen Percy the latter had been a closeted control freak with extremely ugly glasses…

"You know, you see a lot of things in this job," said Theo. "This old bloke came in yesterday and wanted to sell us this ancient journal that his mum wrote. Load of boring rubbish. Lots of drivel about what the weather was like and how many eggs the hens laid. Last week this kid thought we ought to lower the price of the new Martin Miggs comic because – get this – we let it gather dust, and the dust damaged its collectability." Theo rolled his eyes. "But I never thought I'd see – wait until I tell Lane!"

"Do you still see Lane, then?" Oliver asked.

"No one's told you about Lane? He went on holiday to Canada the summer after graduation and ended up eloping to Ontario with some girl called Claudette." He grinned. "We write on occasion. They're having a baby in October."

Oliver tried to imagine Lane raising a child; an image of his former roommate making a baby plate after plate of food came to mind and he too smiled.

Percy, as was his way, couldn't concentrate on anything else until the task at hand had been completed. "I'm not sure how much you can give us for this book. It's not exactly in mint condition, but it's rare enough, anyway." He set _The Emerald Cloak_ on the counter and waited expectantly.

"Don't know a thing about old books," Theo said. "I'll have to go to Mr. Flourish, that's his specialty. One minute." He disappeared into the rows of musty leather and aged parchment, a cloud of dust rising behind him.

"Can you imagine us with a kid?" Percy asked Oliver.

"Not at the present time," said Oliver truthfully.

"Do you mean you want them later?"

Oliver couldn't read the tone of Percy's voice. "Probably," he said. "They're awfully sweet, Perce."

"Penelope always wanted children." He sighed; his eyes grew big and his look became distant. "I haven't ever thought about it since we broke up."

Theo returned at that moment with Mr. Flourish, a lanky wizard with rectangular spectacles who looked as though he could have been a classmate of Dumbledore's. With an air of great authority he produced a bronze magnifying glass from underneath the counter and proceeded to examine the book.

"Family heirloom?"

"I found it at yard sale," Oliver said.

Flourish shot him a suspicious look and returned to his inspections. "Faded ink stain on the inside cover," he remarked critically. "Centimeter-long tear on page two hundred and seventeen. Uneven type at the bottom of one hundred and eighty-four." His gaze rested on Oliver. "_Oily fingerprints all over chapter eleven._"

"Crisps."

"I see." He put away the magnifying glass and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll give you a million and a half Galleons."

"Three million," said Oliver at once. Percy's mouth fell open.

"_You're going to argue?_" he hissed, but Oliver shook him off. 

"A million and three-quarters, Mr. Wood."

"For one of the rarest books in the wizarding world?"

"Two."

"Three."

"I," said Flourish, "fail to see what someone who eats crisps while reading a rare volume deserves three million Galleons."

"I," Oliver retorted, "fail to see why someone who speaks rudely to his customers deserves this book."

"Two-point-one."

"Two-point-eight."

"Two-point-two."

"Point six."

"Three."

"Five."

"Four."

"Sold. Please send the money to Gringotts with instructions that it be placed in Percy Weasley's vault."

"Perhaps I ought to let you argue from now on," Percy muttered, his ears inflamed.

"Well, it is your book. I gave it to you. But the money is for us – "Oliver squeezed Percy's waist " – and for the future little Weasley-Woods."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So, what are you doing until I get home?" Oliver asked once they had said goodbye to Theo and stood outside Flourish and Blotts.

"Figure out the pseudo-job and do laundry, most likely," Percy said. "Perhaps I'll stick around here for a bit and spend a few of my new riches."

They parted after a brief kiss; Oliver watched Percy walk down Diagon Alley and remembered a day two years ago when his lover had crossed these same cobblestones, ignoring Oliver calling his name.

The men of Puddlemere were in a foul mood.

"It took my wife eleven tries to get me out of bed today," Pritchard complained as he slid his robe over his head. "I was out like a rock. Finally she convinced my four-year-old to tickle me until I moved."

"Penge's lost it," said Ellis, a reserve Chaser. "On my way in here I heard him whispering under his breath about keeping us for hours in the weight room."

"That's Hufflepuff for you," Oliver said, digging in his locker for a change of socks. "Work until you drop. No offense to anyone," he added.

"None taken," chorused Pritchard and Meritt, Pritchard's best friend on the team.

As Oliver turned back towards his locker he heard Ellis say, "Christ, Wood, what happened to your back?"

His mind went blank. "Hmm?"

"There's these little marks on your shoulders."

"Little half-circles," said Meritt. "Fingernails?"

"The redhead's fierce, it looks like," said Pritchard, leaning up against the wall and smiling in a way Oliver couldn't interpret. "So, tell us about her."

"Yeah, who's the redhead?" Ellis asked. "How'd Penge know her? Has she been around here?"

"Don't tell me it's that girl in the advertising office," said Douglas, joining the conversation. "Nice to look at, but that voice…"

"I say no one goes anywhere until we get the full scoop on the redhead," interjected Meritt. "Has she got nice legs?"

"We're playing the Holyhead Harpies on Thursday," Oliver said. "If we want to win, we ought to focus on those women during practice and forget everything else."

"Ach, he's embarrassed by her," said Ellis casually.

__

Why, today of all days – Oliver looked Ellis in the eye. "I'm not," he said as calmly and evenly as he could, "embarrassed by _him_ at all."

Jackson snorted. Oliver turned to face him. "How about we ask you – "

But no one could ask Jackson anything, because at that moment Penge apparated into their midst. His face was ashen and his eyes were devoid. "Practice is cancelled," he said hollowly, resting his eyes on the wall. "Looks like the war's had its second battle. There was an explosion in Diagon Alley."


	32. Part Four, Chapter One

Part Four, Chapter One

Oliver had said that the thought of selling _The Emerald Cloak_ had made the war real to him, and Percy had agreed. Now, sitting in one of St. Mungo's many corridors and staring at a wall so white that it seemed dead, one of the rare thoughts to penetrate the numbness of his mind was how unknowing he had been. It had made things real in that it had provoked feelings of hopelessness and desperation. The destruction of his brothers' shop had transfigured the war into an all-pervading harsh, brutal truth.

Mundungus had broken his leg in two places, and the Healers were having difficulty mending the bones.

Fred had deep burns across half his chest.

The lower half of George's right leg was being removed. His bones could not be mended, as they lay in shards strewn across Diagon Alley; they could not regrow his bones because there was no longer any skin or muscle to incase them as they grew.

Arthur approached Percy and sat down next to him on the floor. "Where's Oliver?"

"Went back with Remus. Something about wanting to be there with him." Percy shrugged. The friendship between Oliver and Remus was something he had not given much thought to.

"We're all sleeping at headquarters tonight," said his father in a barely detectable whisper. "Your mum and I are going to leave in about an hour or so and come back in the morning. I think you ought to go back with the rest of the family."

Percy stared at him. How were they supposed to leave, knowing that Fred, George, and Mundungus were in agony? 

"Percy," said Arthur gently, "there isn't anything you can do by sitting here. The Healers are taking very good care of them. Things are going to be very chaotic in the next few days, and I want you to get some rest while you still can. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," he whispered.

His father rested one hand on his shoulder. "Perce, before you go, there's something I need to tell you."

Instantly his body sprang into alarm. His eyes widened, his hands clenched, he could feel his neck and shoulders tense up. "What?"

"There were some other people hurt in the accident," Arthur said. "It's taken the Ministry and St. Mungo's until now to fully assess the damage and identify everyone that was there. Perce – your friend Theo is dead."

"That isn't possible," he answered at once.

The hand resting on his shoulder slid around to encompass the top of his back. "A large piece of glass from one of the windows hit him in the chest. The Healers say he died very quickly."

"Flourish and Blotts isn't anywhere near Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Percy said. "Why would he have been there? I saw him, damn it, _I saw him –_ "

"He'd just gotten off for lunch when the explosion happened. Mr. Flourish said he liked to eat at a café that's across the street from – "

"Flourish is an idiot." Percy could hear the desperate note in his own voice. "He acted like a prat to Ol, he doesn't know what he's talking about." To his horror, tears began to burn his eyes; one slid down his cheek. "Theo was going to write to Lane, Lane's my other old roommate, he and his wife are having a baby. Theo was going to write to him and – "

"Percy – "

A sob rattled throughout his body and finally escaped. How could a person be dead, when he'd just done something as ordinary as complain about his job? When he'd just smiled at old friends from school? How could a life stop existing on earth if there were still things a person had to do, if – 

"I'll take you back, Perce."

Charlie was standing over him, one hand extended to help him up. "Come on."

"Does Oliver know yet?" he asked bleakly.

"Bill's gone on ahead to tell him. We'll go back with Ron and Ginny. Come on."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron looked as though he was in the dazed mind of a person who had just woken up; Ginny's eyes were very red. "Mrs. Figg was here," Ron said to Percy once he and Charlie reached one of the many fireplaces. "Wanted to see Dung, but they wouldn't let her. She's going to bring Harry when she comes back tomorrow."

Percy swallowed. "How is he?" Harry Potter – he had forgotten about Harry throughout all of this. 

"He's…Harry. Doing as well as he can, I guess."

The animosity between them was either dormant or destroyed, but Percy didn't have the strength to ponder it. Listlessly, he watched Charlie throw floo powder over the fire; in a matter of seconds they had returned to Grimmauld Place.

They arrived in the sitting room, where someone had conjured several spare beds complete with thick azure blankets. Oliver sat on one. Upon seeing Percy he dashed to the fireplace and pulled him into an embrace so fierce that Percy was lifted a good three inches off the ground.

"Baby, I love you so much – "

"Darling – "

"I – " kiss " – love you always – " kiss " – don't ever – "

"Ol – "

Ginny burst into tears. They immediately tried to comfort her, but she seemed unable to speak and curled up on one of the beds, sobs shaking her body. When Ron attempted to console her she cried for everyone to leave her alone and buried her face in the pillow.

Ron looked over at Bill and Charlie. "I don't suppose anyone is going to tell us _why_ the Death Eaters attacked?"

His two oldest brothers exchanged glances. "I don't know if we're supposed to tell you – " Charlie began.

"Damn it, you'd better tell me, or else I'll floo straight back to St. Mungo's, blast open the doors, and ask them myself! I've probably fought more Death Eaters than the two of you have, just because I'm sixteen you don't treat me like I'm a bloody child. George is having _half his leg taken off_. D'you mean to tell me you really expect me not to find out if you don't tell me?" His face was scarlet.

"They were keeping the headquarters of the Defense Department in the cellar of their shop," Bill said slowly. "The department's them, Mundungus, and Tonks, only she's out on an assignment and couldn't be there. Around noon they closed up the shop so they could have a meeting. Somehow the Death Eaters found out."

"They may not have actually found out," Charlie interjected. "It could have easily been a good guess. Dad's friends with Dumbledore, Ron and Ginny were at the Department of Mysteries. Stands to reason that they'd suspect the entire family."

Bill nodded and continued. "We aren't exactly sure yet how many Death Eaters were there, but one of them's dead. Chimeran Malfoy. Lucius's brother. From _Priori Incantatum_ they've figured out that he's the one who burned Fred."

"Wait a minute," Percy said. "So now…the entire Defense Department – the physical part, I mean, weapons and stuff – is destroyed?"

There was a silence. "Yeah," Charlie said.

"Who killed Chimeran Malfoy?"

"We don't know yet."


	33. Part Four, Chapter Two

Part Four, Chapter Two

Something occurred to Percy, and for the first time since the explosion he felt himself regain a small amount of power. "I still have the keys to the Hall of International Personal Files," he said. "I'm going to go to the Ministry and look him up."

"Percy, don't," said Oliver at once. "It's got to be chaos over there."

"Which is why no one will notice if I sneak into the hall and take – "

"What's the point?" Bill asked. "Really. He's dead already, knowing whatever the Ministry has about him isn't going to change anything."

"Well, if you and Charlie don't know anything, then I'm going to find out for myself."

"Perce, just think for a second," said Charlie. "The officials always summon the families of people who died in battle to the Ministry, regardless of what side the person was on. Do you really want to risk running into the Malfoys?"

"Lucius Malfoy's in Azkaban."

"But his wife and son have been living in the manor all summer," Bill said. "If they haven't made a run for it already, I don't think they will now. Besides, I think Chimeran and Lucius have a sister…and you know how it is with the elitist purebloods, the second someone attacks their third cousin four times removed whom they've never met, they spring into action. So you'll most likely run across a mob of angry Death Eaters and their supporters."

"And Theo's parents will be there too," added Ginny, raising her tear-stained face from the pillow. "Won't they, Bill? Even if he wasn't technically in the battle."

"Yes, I expect Theo's family will be there. Now, do you still want to go?"

"It would be better than sitting around here doing nothing," Percy muttered. "What are we supposed to do, just lie down and go to sleep?"

"A lot of people from the Order will most likely be here in the next half hour or so," Charlie said. "Then there'll most likely be a meeting – "

"And I bet no one will tell me anything." He realized something as he spoke. "Why did you and Bill know about the Defense Department, anyway? I didn't even know that Fred and George were in the bloody Order, and I'm in the Recruitment Department."

"Damn good point," Oliver said. He turned and faced Percy's older brothers. "Why did you know all of this if we didn't?"

Bill shot a sidelong glance at Charlie, and answered, "No one in the Order is supposed to know more than they have to know."

"Not even if their own goddamn brothers have joined?" Percy crossed his arms over his chest. "Ron and Ginny, did you two know that Fred and George were in the Order?"

Ginny hesitated. "Well," she said, "no one ever told us directly, but I know I was pretty sure that they were."

"Me too," Ron mumbled.

The calm yet mildly worried looks on Bill and Charlie's faces infuriated Percy. "What have I got to do to prove my loyalty, kill twenty Death Eaters and mount their heads on pikes?" he snarled. "Oh, let's not tell Percy anything, because it isn't as though _it's relevant to him if his own flesh and blood is fighting a Dark Lord._ It definitely isn't _important_ _to_ _his_ _job for the Order or anything_. No, let's not tell Percy anything, let's just pretend he's welcomed back into the family and then – "

"Look, they didn't want us to tell you," Charlie said hurriedly. "You know how they are when they're angry – "

"What, you were scared? Of your eighteen-year-old little brothers? And you didn't even tell Oliver, either, I suppose they think he's evil incarnate for being in love – "

"None of you are going to say anything helpful at the moment, so I recommend you all be quiet."

Remus was standing in the doorway, a tray of food in his hands. He set it down on the nearest table and walked over to the group gathered near the fireplace. "I'm sure after Fred and George come out of hospital their priorities will have rearranged. The fact of the matter is that they acted insensitively out of anger, and nothing is going to change that now."

"What do you do, just eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" Percy muttered.

"I could hear you all three rooms away. I don't consider that eavesdropping. Besides, I consider anything said about the Order and anything said in my house to be my business."

"You own headquarters?" Percy asked, the surprise temporarily diverting his attention.

"Yes, I do." Remus sat on the end of one of the empty beds. "And I really don't recommend going to the Ministry now. Besides, I can tell you all about Chimeran Malfoy if you want me to."

"I didn't know you knew him," Oliver said.

"I knew him slightly, but if you've lived with Sirius for thirteen years, you're going to know a lot about his relatives whether you like it or not." He smiled slightly. "Chimeran Malfoy was his parents' oldest child. From what I've gathered he was always a bit of a disappointment to them; the elitist sort of pureblood wizards like their children to marry and produce heirs, particularly their first-born children, and _definitely_ their first-born son. Therefore, having disgraced the Malfoy name, et cetera, et cetera, Chimeran devoted all his time to politics. I'm sure he was a very valuable asset to Voldemort that way. He knew everyone who'd ever held office at the Ministry, to some degree or another."

"What did he look like?" Percy asked. He couldn't quite develop a picture in his mind of the person who had attacked the twins and Mundungus, and it worried him.

"Sharp nose, light eyes, fairly tall. Think of Lucius with a few more lines on his face and shorter hair. I've only seen him once, so I can't really remember a lot about that. Anyway, after floating from office to office and position to position for a number of years, he became the Record-Keeper of the Werewolf Registry in 1976." Remus sighed and rolled his eyes. "I expect his family were thrilled. He could blackmail the werewolves Voldemort wanted and put the ones who refused in Azkaban."

"So why didn't you end up in Azkaban?" Oliver asked.

"In 1976 I was still in school," Remus said. "Which meant that I was officially under Dumbledore's protection. The Registry send a lot of threatening mail, though, saying that the moment I graduated I was going straight to prison and all sort of things like that." A smile began to tremble in the corners of his mouth. "Sirius wrote back saying that if they came within a two-mile radius of me he would castra – well, I don't suppose I should say what he said he would do."

"But you were just in school," Percy said. "Why were you so important to them? I mean, I'm sure they had other people to spend their time on."

"Because I was definitely in alliance with Dumbledore, and anyone with ties to Dumbledore was a threat," said Remus. "Besides, they knew that Sirius and I were – close, and his family was feeling very vindictive towards him after he left home. So, as you can assume, I was very anxious. Beyond anxious, frightened to the point of sleeplessness. Luckily I had some very good friends."

"I'll bet Sirius made Chimeran Malfoy wish he'd never been born," said Ron, grinning.

"Well, I don't know about that." Remus paused. "But I'm positive he made him wish he'd never had anything to do with the Werewolf Registry. A few days before graduation, Sirius went with James Potter to the Ministry, found the Werewolf Registry, and annihilated my file."

Oliver's mouth fell slightly open. "Completely destroyed it?"

"Yeah," said Remus, the smile no longer restrained. "What's more, they put some sort of charm on the place so that anyone who tried to write either 'Remus' or 'Lupin' would find that their words disappeared from the page. For all I know, it still hasn't worn off."

"Nice," said Oliver, impressed.

"Then Sirius – who was never content with doing anything halfway – took all the letters Chimeran Malfoy and his associates had sent me and mailed them in to their superiors. They found I wasn't in any of their records and Chimeran was sacked before the day was out."

Percy found himself wishing he'd known Sirius Black. He sounded like a powerful presence, the sort of person you couldn't help but be captivated by. When Remus spoke about him he seemed years younger; the lines of his face seemed to disappear and his eyes were almost lit from within.

"Did you ever see Chimeran again?" Bill asked.

"Not until the beginning of this summer." Remus looked at Percy. "I inherited this house from Sirius, along with all of his other possessions, which include property in Wiltshire and several rare gems." The light faded. "Shortly after he died I was besieged by letters from most everyone who was related to Sirius in any way, shape, or form claiming that the inheritance wasn't legitimate, and that they, as his blood relatives, were within their rights to take over his belongings. Keep in mind, these were people who had called him every name in the book and hadn't spoken to him since he was sixteen. You might be interested to know, Ron, that Draco Malfoy dredged up some ancient document about entailment and sent a copy to me with a few choice comments scribbled at the bottom."

"I hope you told him he was a ferret-faced piece of – "

"Ronald Weasley!"

Ron looked up, redfaced. "Sorry, Mum, didn't know you were here."

Percy's mother sat next to Remus and sighed. "Arthur's still at St. Mungo's, but I told him he had better be here in the next fifteen minutes or else I'd drag him here myself." Her eyes swept over each of her children. "George's surgery was successful. They were able to salvage his knee."

"Bloody lot of good _that_ will do," Ron muttered.

"It will actually do him more good than you may realize," his mother snapped. "Once he gets a false leg he'll be able to walk normally. Fred doesn't have any permanent damage to his muscles or organs, and they've finally managed to heal Mundungus's bones. Considering the circumstances I say we've been very lucky."

"There's some tea in the kitchen, Molly," said Remus gently.

"Thank you." She swept out of the room and Percy breathed a sigh of relief.

"I suppose she's right," he said. "Not that injuries are a good thing, but it could have been a lot worse for all three of them."

"If Fred won't have any permanent damage to anything below the skin, then it must be like a very large version of the burns I get from the dragons," Charlie said. He rolled back his sleeve and the rest of the room moved closer to look at his arm. "See, it's not exactly good-looking, but it isn't anything – well, it isn't anything like what Moody's got."

"Be careful what you say," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, coming into the room. "Mad-Eye's just apparated into the kitchen."

"Looks like the meeting might be starting soon," replied Remus, and began to rise from his seat.

"Wait!" exclaimed Percy and Oliver at the same time. "You haven't finished telling us about Chimeran Malfoy," Oliver added. Ron leaned forward and looked very intent.

"He threatened me again when I told him I didn't intend to give him anything," Remus continued. "Perhaps he felt some sort of satisfaction when I was forced to stop teaching at Hogwarts, but obviously that would be a small consolation."

"What did he want to do to you?" Bill asked.

"Nothing very pleasant. I told him he could do what he wanted – but that I knew exactly where he lived and that the full moon wasn't very far away. That was the end of it, though I doubt it was because of anything I said. Probably he realized that he'd have the rest of the relations to fight against, if he got any of the inheritance."


	34. Part Four, Chapter Three

Part Four, Chapter Three

The Order of the Phoenix was many things. Inefficient was not one of them.

"There are things that need to be done immediately," Dumbledore said, pacing the room as he spoke. The rest of the Order sat on beds and armchairs, watching him intently. "The Ministry has already sent Aurors to Chimeran Malfoy's residence to investigate, and they are sending us the report the moment it's finished. However, I would like Alastor to search it himself, as he will no doubt find things they missed."

"Got it," Moody growled, disapparating almost before he had finished speaking.

Dumbledore blinked and continued. "I regret to say that we do know yet know who else was involved in the attack, as all three of our members in hospital are either unconscious or incoherent. The Healers tell me they will be able to speak to us tomorrow morning at the absolute earliest.

"Then there is the matter of our Defense Department. While all weaponry was destroyed, plans and detailed descriptions of each type are safely contained in a vault at Gringotts, to which I hold the only key." He reached down the neck of his robe and pulled out a chain; Percy could see a copper key no bigger than a thimble dangling from the end. "For the moment I will entrust it to Arthur. Arthur, I need you to go to Gringotts immediately, and I'd like Hestia, Emmeline, and Charlie to go with you. Bring the plans back here as soon as you can; you will find materials to rebuild in the attic."

Percy's father stepped forward to receive the key. Charlie followed him and the two witches out the door, turning his head to wink at his mother before he left. She gave him a very worried smile.

"Until now," said Dumbledore, "we have been a small group of people. Now that our second battle has taken place, we are forced to confront the fact that our size is no longer enough. If we were an official army, I was thinking, every person in this room would be an officer. Officers are of course crucial to success; what we lack are soldiers to lead." He took a deep breath and sat down on an armchair in the corner. "I intend to spread the word that we are enlisting an army. Applicants will be screened using the most precise method available."

Percy's head began to ache. He was going to have to go back to those godforsaken records again, he knew it. More hours of –

"They will be examined by the Sorting Hat."

"That's brilliant!" Ron blurted.

McGonagall smiled. "Why thank you, Mr. Weasley. It was my idea."

"Wait a minute," said someone in the back of the room. "Who's going to be the one to oversee all this? You've got to admit it's a risk, publicly identifying yourself with the Order."

"I am," answered McGonagall briskly. "Those who try to attack me will discover it was one of the worst decisions of their lives."

Dumbledore smiled. "The Hat will be able to determine the loyalty of each applicant, and what branch he or she would be best suited for. Minerva and I have thought of some divisions of the army we are about to form, and I would now like to ask some of you to lead them."

Everyone shifted and looked nervous.

"Every branch will be trained in different ways, though all will be in the same place. The Order has recently secured a small unplottable island in the Carribean, which we plan to use as a training base. The first division Minerva and I agreed on is the Creature Branch. Its members will become adept with the use of animals in battle and will spend many hours training with dangerous beasts." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "I offer command of this branch to Rubeus Hagrid."

Some very loud sobbing erupted from the other side of the room. Remus took the cloth from a small table and offered it to Hagrid to use as a handkerchief.

"So honored, Professor Dumbledore sir…anything I can do…"

"Then I take it you accept?"

Hagrid nodded and blew his nose.

"Next," Dumbledore continued, "is the Aerial Branch. It will specialize in attacking from the air and will also learn advanced flying techniques." He paused. "Towards the end of the first war this division was being formed, though it only fought in one battle. Its leader was one of the most perfect people imaginable for the job. He had a quick-thinking mind, he did not hesitate to take command, and he loved to fly everything and anything – whether it was legal or not. Sadly, he was killed on Halloween of 1981, five weeks after his only battle as a commander. I have a feeling, though, that if James Potter could pick his replacement from those assembled in this room, knowing everything about them that I do – " Dumbledore lifted his head " – Oliver Wood would head the list."

Percy turned quickly. Oliver was staring at Dumbledore, his mouth open slightly. "I – how am I going to lead a division and still earn a living?"

"I am sorry to say you won't be able to continue Quidditch," replied Dumbledore. "There are some jobs that are compatible with commanding, but yours, regrettably, is not one of them. However, there is money in the Order to provide you with a decent salary – most likely less than what you currently receive, but a sizeable amount."

Oliver sighed, very softly; Percy thought he might be the only person in the room who could hear it. "Can I have some time to think?"

"Of course," said Dumbledore, nodding slowly. "Choices like this can require a great deal of thought."

Percy took Oliver's hand. "Whatever you want to do, love," he whispered in his ear. Oliver looked at him but did not speak.

Rummaging in the pockets of his robe, Dumbledore took out a sherbet lemon and popped it into his mouth. "I'm afraid all this talking is beginning to give me a sore throat. I'll try to finish as quickly as possible.

"There will be many times where we will need quick-thinking duelers, if this war is anything like the last. The Dueling Branch will require strength of will and mind. I have a feeling that this may become our largest branch, and I offer its command to Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Accepted," said a deep voice from just behind Percy. Percy did not turn, his mind immersed in other matters. On one hand he wanted to forbid Oliver from even _thinking_ about accepting the position, so he would stay in Britain and perhaps away from battle. But of course that was unreasonable and selfish. Oliver would be wonderful. Percy thought of his lover fronting a fleet of fliers, shouting out orders and swooping down over the Death Eaters. He felt an immense rush of pride.

"There are spies within the Order, but their assignments tend to require working in pairs or alone. Due to this they are not technically a division. On the subject of spying, I'm sure many of you have realized that Severus and Tonks are absent; they are on a mission together.

"The Strategy Council includes Minerva, Remus, and me; the members in the first war numbered seven. The others, all of which were killed, were Marlene McKinnon, Lily Potter, Caradoc Dearborn, and Dorcas Meadows. I offer their stations to Bill Weasley, Sturgis Podmore, Mundungus Fletcher, and Arabella Figg."

"Dung'll be thrilled when he finds out," said Oliver in a low voice. "He's been wanted respect ever since he joined. You think he and Mrs. Figg will be able to survive a meeting without killing each other?"

"Let's hope," Percy replied, hearing Bill and Sturgis accept.

"One final position, and then you are all free to eat or sleep or otherwise do as you please. Some of our members, due to their distant locations and other impediments, are not here tonight. During the last war we had several foreign members, and it is my goal this time to have even more. Sirius Black was the Order's Foreign Affairs Coordinator. His job involved much time spent abroad, along with an extraordinary amount of energy and determination. Due to his potential successor's time spent working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, along with the unstoppable persistence he has shown both during his years at Hogwarts and his short time serving the Order, I feel that Percy Weasley would be ideal to fill the role."

Another bizarre event in an otherwise unreal day; the squeeze from Oliver's hand assured Percy that the situation was entirely true. "I'm barely twenty!" was the first thing that exited his mouth. "Don't you want someone older, someone less…" _Scared and unwilling to leave his boyfriend?_

"You are of course free to decline," said Dumbledore gently. "But I think you would do excellent work."

"Perce, we've got to talk," said Oliver at once.

Remus, overhearing them, told them they were free to use the library. "Down the hall, up the stairs, first door on the right."

"So," said Percy, sitting down next to Oliver on a burgundy couch between two intricately carved bookcases. "What do you want to do about yours?"

"It's not what I want to do, it's what we want to do," Oliver replied. "This will affect you as much as it does me."

"I want to know what you think first."

Oliver's eyes studied his shoes. "There's a hell of a difference between convincing a bunch of teenagers to kick Slytherin arses and persuading people entirely older than I am to fly to what could very well be their deaths."

Silence. "For what it's worth," Percy said, "I think you'd be really excellent at it."

"I know I could be," said Oliver miserably. "I almost wish I thought I'd be rubbish, so I could have a good reason to decline. The only person I can think of who would be as good is Charlie, but I'm betting Dumbledore wants him for the Creature Branch. Damn it, I don't want to leave you."

"Who says you're leaving me?"

"I can tell already you're going to take Foreign Affairs Coordinator. What else would you do? Sit around our place in the Carribean and wait for me to come home? If you worked in any other position it wouldn't take full advantage of your strengths. And I want you to take it, beautiful, I do, but at the same time I've got this selfish urge to run off with you somewhere and not come back until the war's over. I think I've got to take Aerial Commander, Perce. I'd rather be _Wood, who was bloodily killed by the Death Eaters_ than _Wood, who declined the job and was never able to forgive himself_. You're the same way. That's part of the reason we began to love each other in the first place, because we can see our own ambitiousness in each other."

"I'll come home to you whenever I can," said Percy softly. "I promise you."

Before he knew it he was being lifted by strong arms onto Oliver's lap and clasped tightly. "My Perce," Oliver whispered. "Not going to be able to quit until you've conquered the world, are you."

"No. Not going to be able to quit, not until there's nothing to stop you and me from living as we want and doing what we like together, not until there's nothing more I can do."

Percy could feel eyelashes flutter against his neck as Oliver closed his eyes. "Always knew you were a true Gryffindor," he murmured.

It was only once they were halfway down the stairs that it struck Percy, once more, that Theo was dead.


	35. Part Four, Chapter Four

Part Four, Chapter Four

When Percy saw Mundungus there was something very different about him, and Percy was unable to figure out what it was. It wasn't that he was wearing the regulation hospital nightshirt, or that there was a cane by the side of his bed. At first Percy thought it was that his hair was very clean and well-combed, but after realizing that fact he still felt as though he had not found the answer. Finally he figured it out. Mundungus had no smell of either alcohol or tobacco around him – a fact he was acutely aware of.

"Dying for a drink," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft from the pain medications. "Anything, even that bloody Old Cottingley gin that no one could stand unless he'd had so much he was about to pass out…"

"We'll have a party when you get out of hospital," Oliver said. "Buy you a bottle of whatever you like."

"Damn healers won't let me do anything," Mundungus said. His eyes were half-closed. "Can't drink, can't have a pipe, can't tell them to go to hell, can't tell them to take their bloody pain medication and stick it up their arse – "

"You don't like the pain medication?" Percy asked.

Mundungus smiled and winked. "Only kind of pain medication I ever needed isn't allowed in."

Percy noticed a large vase of flowers on the table next to the bed. "From my mum," said Mundungus, jerking a thumb in the direction of the vase. "Was here all last night bawling and going on about her darling boy and rubbish like that. Hope she'll remember, the next time I need a few Galleons." He settled back onto the pillows and pulled the blankets up around his chin. "Where's the rest of your lot?"

"Bill and Charlie are visiting Fred," said Percy, "and Mum, Dad, Ron, and Ginny are seeing George. We thought we'd go around and see you all in shifts so that you wouldn't be overwhelmed by too many visitors at once."

"Seen yer brothers yet?"

"No."

Mundungus cleared his throat. "Be prepared fer it. They're pretty bad off."

Oliver and Percy exchanged glances; Percy could tell that Oliver's heart was beating as anxiously quickly as his own was. "Dung," said Oliver, leaning a bit closer to the bed, "can I ask you a question?"

"'Course." He was sounding drowsy; perhaps the medication had kicked in full-force.

"Which one of you killed Chimearan Malfoy?"

Mundungus's eyes flew open. "Blimey, Wood, don't tell me you don't know the answer to that."

"How would I? I wasn't there and no one has told us much of anything."

"Don't _need_ to have been there," said Mundungus, exasperated. "You were on a team with Fred and George for what, three years?"

"Four."

"Right. Then you ought to know that it was George that killed Malfoy. You mess with one o' them, you've got the other to deal with as well."

"How did he do it?" asked Percy quietly.

"Cruciatus," replied Mundungus. His eyes gradually fell shut, his chest rising slightly with each breath. "Never even tried for Avada Kedavra. Don't know if he couldn't bring himself to do it, or if somehow he knew he wasn't strong enough for it, or what have you. Maybe it's because Malfoy was right up next to Fred, and George was afraid he'd somehow hit the wrong one. Not any idea. Have you ever seen a person die by the Cruciatus Curse?"

"No," said Percy. "I've never seen anyone die at all. I saw my uncle Bilius a few minutes after he died, though." As he said it he realized how naïve it sounded.

Mundungus didn't seem to have noticed. "Horrible. I'd rather seen ten go by Avada Kedavra than one by Cruciatus. Because it doesn't just happen and then be done with, you know. Took Malfoy what must've been a full ten minutes. An' his face was all twisted into shapes no one would think were possible – "

"All right, we've got the idea," Percy said. Oliver looked as though he was going to be sick.

In a voice that sounded almost distant, Mundungus began to speak again. Percy realized that he was slipping into delirium. "Know what else is weird about this place? They call me 'sir'. Bloody weird. Wasn't a sir when I did a week in Azkaban."

"You were in Azkaban?"

"Week. Couldn't pay fines. I told you they call me 'sir' here, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"S'ppose that's what happens when a bloke gets Order of Merlin, second class."

"Dung, we're going to go see Fred now," said Oliver as a Healer came in wheeling a small table. "You going to be all right?"

"He'll be fine," said the Healer; Mundungus nodded dreamily. "He had some medication right before you got here. Are you feeling all right, sir?"

Mundungus turned his head very slowly. "Who?"

"Bill says you're going to be a commander," said Fred to Oliver. "Aerial Branch."

"That's right." Oliver took Percy's hand, as if to say to Fred: _I am with your brother, even if you haven't spoken to him yet._

"I'll fly with you," said Fred at once. "Like the old days. Hell, we might even end up fighting some of the same Slytherins we used to play against. If we see Flint, let me at him. I know his way of flying as well as I know how to tie my shoes." He stared at Oliver very intently. "George'll fly with us too."

Percy opened his mouth but it was Oliver who spoke. "Fred, I don't know if that's going to be possible."

Fred snorted. "It will. Moody's got the same part of his leg missing as George does and he still flies."

With a sigh so small it was almost non-existent, Oliver dropped the subject. "Did Bill and Charlie tell you about Percy's position?"

"The one about the foreign travel or the one with his legs spread? Because I knew about the last one."

Percy was struck by the nearly overwhelming urge to smack him – burns or no burns – but then Fred smiled. "Never tell anything to Dung if you don't want it told to everyone else you know. Ron thought you were with Ol for the sex, after he figured out it wasn't for getting into the Order."

"Oh, that's great," said Percy, rolling his eyes. "For most of his life he thinks I'm a priggish git. Then he thinks I'm still a priggish git, only one that isn't speaking to the family. Now he thinks I'm some sort of lust-driven hedonist who doesn't care who he sleeps with?"

"The first part's right," said Oliver, before Percy stepped on his foot.

"I told him he was off the mark," Fred said. "'Ron,' I told him, 'this is Percy. If he was using some bloke for sex, he'd find one with the most enormous cock in the world, because Percy always has to overachieve. Not that Oliver's small, mind you, but he's nothing out of the ordinary in that department.'"

"Fred," said Percy, after several seconds had passed, "how in the _bloody hell_ do you know that?"

"Quidditch showers," said Fred, shrugging. "I'm not blind, you know."

"If you've finished discussing my nether regions," said Oliver, who was looking very flustered, "how are you feeling?"

"Like hell." Fred crossed his arms over his chest and them removed them hastily; Percy assumed he had forgotten about the burns and pressed on them too hard. "Parts of my skin don't look like skin anymore, George is missing half a leg – which happened just before he killed Chimeran Malfoy, mind you, and might not have ever happened if he hadn't been trying to help me – my shop is completely destroyed, as is all the weaponry and merchandise it contained, and the only good thing about the whole situation is that all the money was in Gringotts and not the shop."

"If it's any consolation," said Percy, "Dad and some other people in the Order rebuilt about three quarters of the artillery last night, and they hope to finish when we go home after visiting you."

"Usually your idea of consolation is crap, Perce, but this time it's actually good news," said Fred, in a voice that sounded more apathetic then relieved. "At least things are only mucked up for George and Dung and me and not the rest of the Order. I kept having nightmares that the Death Eaters attacked and you lot only had wands to defend yourselves."

"They used your plans that you kept in Gringotts," said Oliver, whom Percy suspected, like himself, didn't know what else to say.

"That was George's idea. You saw Dung already, so then you haven't seen George yet?"

"No, not yet."

Fred's face hardened. "Well," he said, bitterness barely contained by stoicism, "no one will ever have trouble telling us apart now."

Percy did not know afterward why he had said it. Perhaps it was a need to relieve the tension of the room, or to assert himself, or to be defiant because Fred had invaded topics that were not his concern, but whatever the reason, Percy said: "Oh, and Fred? Just for the record, sometimes Oliver's the one with the spread legs."

"He's been asleep for all of our visit," said Bill, closing the door to George's room behind himself and Charlie. "I don't know if he was awake for Mum and the rest, but he looks pretty out of it."

"Probably the pain medication," said Percy, remembering Mundungus's lethargic voice.

"Probably."

"Oh, one thing about Dung," said Percy as his brothers began to walk down the corridor. "When we saw him he'd just gotten medication and he's sort of incoherent."

"All right. Thanks."

Once they were gone the corridor was silent. "Are you ready?" Percy asked Oliver.

"No. But then, I never will be. Let's go."

The first impression of George's room that struck Percy was that of absolute stillness. The curtains did not flutter, and the room's only light came from the sunlight that penetrated them. All was silent and it remained that way, never interrupted by George or Healers or any other force known to the earth. And white, everything was white, from the curtains to the walls to the floor. Even George's hair seemed less vibrant than it usually did, as if the whiteness was trying to smother it.

The one sign of life was the blanket draped over George, which steadily undulated with each breath its user took. It was when he noticed this that Percy realized he had forgotten to breathe.

George's face was like that of a statue, very well-formed and striking but forever immobile. Percy was reminded of a story his mother had read him as a child, about a shepherd who became the unwitting beloved of the moon goddess. She asked Zeus to grant the shepherd eternal sleep so that he could stay young and beautiful without end. And so he lived on, always in dreams, never changing, his mind separate from the world though his body remained within its grasp.

Percy thought of courage and looked at the remains of the leg.

It was not horrible, as he had imagined, but a shock, rather like stumbling upon one of the twins' jokes. There had been many times he looked at them and found their noses green, their ears growing curly hair, their lips grotesquely large and red, goat horns protruding from their heads. It was like a new entertainment they would create. _Look, Perce, bet you can't figure out what we've done to George's leg! Oh look, he's going red, I bet he'll take house points just because he doesn't know._

Tentatively, Percy reached down to the bed and touched the place just past George's knee. Space. Eternal as the sleep of Endymion.


	36. Part Four, Chapter Five

Part Four, Chapter Five

"Eighteen years old, and already killed a man," Percy said. "Order of Merlin, second class. I always wanted Fred and George to achieve more than they did, but I never thought it would happen this way."

Oliver's hand rested next to Percy's on the space just past where the leg ended. "I suppose it'll be my job to decide whether he fights with the Aerial Branch," he said. "Fred's right, he ought to be able to fly, but well enough for combat? It won't be right after he gets out of hospital, that I know for certain. God, Perce, what the hell do I know about combat?"

"Perhaps it's like Quidditch but with weapons involved," Percy said, but he knew his response was weak, and what did Oliver know about combat? He had never fought in any sort of battle before. Percy trusted that his lover would have talent, but he also desperately hoped that a lack of experience wouldn't be lethal for Oliver.

"Today's Monday," Oliver said. "We leave for the Caribbean on Thursday and on Saturday my branch starts training. You fly to Canada on Sunday."

"And after that is Spain," Percy replied. It would be so long. "Then South Africa. Maybe I can apparate home every night."

"You can't, Perce. It's one of the rules."

Percy stepped into Oliver's embrace and rested his cheek against his lover's hair. "I'll always be thinking of you. I'll write all the time. We'll come up with absurd code phrases so that if someone - "

"We aren't supposed to write, either, love." Oliver's hands rubbed gently against Percy's back. "Any important messages go through Dumbledore."

"Then I won't write letters. I'll write you poems so that if they fall into the wrong hands all they'll know is that we're in love." He and Oliver couldn't be separated for so long, not after he'd grown used to Oliver's body lying next to his at night. Certainly there had to be some way.

"Percy. We aren't supposed to communicate in any way, shape, or form, unless it's urgent business that pertains to the Order."

"Who made these rules, anyway?" he asked irritably.

"Remus."

George stirred in his sleep; Percy saw it over Oliver's shoulder and pulled away. "Ol, look, he's moving." Oliver turned to see George's head shift on the pillow and then all was still again.

"You know, I've been alone a lot," Percy said after a few seconds had passed. "I thought I was used to it. Now I find out that I won't see you for weeks on end and suddenly it's my idea of hell on earth."

"Did you ever really like to be alone?"

"Sometimes I did. I don't think I liked it all the time. I think I thought that was the way it had to be and so I figured I'd make myself like it."

"It isn't forever," Oliver said. "You'll be home by when, August?"

"Yes, August. The very last day, just before Ron and Ginny go back to Hogwarts."

"By that time you'll probably be speaking four languages and carrying money in ten currencies."

Percy studied George for a moment. "I think he's pretty well out."

"They might have given him more medication than the others. I can't even imagine what it's like to have a part of your leg removed."

"By the time I come home he might be ready to fly with you."

Oliver bit his lip, considering. "I don't know whether I want him to go or if I don't. He'll be angry almost certainly, regardless. Once the physical element is no longer a concern - if it ever comes to that - then the question will be if he's emotionally well enough to join the division. If   
his anger will work for him or against him."

"I haven't got any idea," Percy said. "If you'd asked me two years ago I would have said it would be detrimental, but now I don't know him well enough to have an opinion. I hope it'll be to his benefit. It helps, I think, to feel like your anger did something for you."

On their way to leave they found Mrs. Figg coming from Mundungus's room. "Is he still asleep?" Oliver asked.

"Out cold." There was an empty basket in her hands, tightly woven and lined with dark green fabric. "I'm giving Mr. Tibbles another five minutes and then we're going home.

The smile appeared on Percy's lips before he could stop it. "You brought Mr. Tibbles to visit?"

"Of course I did," she said tersely. "Just because a person's a cat doesn't mean he should be excluded. Besides, I don't like going visiting alone, and after Harry told me he'd be around later - "

"Harry didn't come with you?"

"He said he had something he wanted to do first. Not that he'd tell me, of course -" she gave a dismissive wave of her hand " - but apparently it's far enough away that he decided to fly."

"It isn't that they aren't welcome, Molly," they could hear Remus saying as they walked in the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, "but considering - considering the personalities involved, I don't think it's the best idea."

"Listen to him, Mum," Ron groaned as Percy and Oliver entered the sitting room. He was sprawled across the couch - all the beds had disappeared - and his face was screwed up into a contorted mask of agony. Ginny sat on the armrest of the couch, the tense line of her mouth suggesting that any minute she was going to have a frustrated outburst.

"I'm sure that they can manage to stay here for the rest of the summer. I'm not unreasonable, I don't expect that they'll never leave, but I think that it would be in their best interests to spend most of their time in a protected place. Ron, stop doing that to your face."

"Dad, help me out here," Ron said in a voice dangerously close to a whine.

Arthur gave the wire in his hands a final twist around a piece of piping and   
looked up.

"You'll be close to Diagon Alley," he said. "Besides, nothing's going on at home. You've already been living here for weeks."

"But then I didn't _have_ to," protested Ron. "And we'll be here all by ourselves some of the time, Remus is moving back to Wiltshire."

"Really?" Oliver asked. The others glanced up, noticing he and Percy for what appeared to be the first time since they had crossed the room's threshold.

"I think it'll be good for me," Remus said.

"It's Wiltshire near the Malfoys," Ginny moaned. "How can that possibly be better for anyone?"

"They're on the other end of Wiltshire from where I'll be living. And personally, I think that these days they have other things to do with their time besides threaten me."

"There's no way they can still get the inheritance, is there?" Percy asked.

Remus turned to look at him. "No way short of breaking into Gringotts. Legally I have a far more legitimate claim than they do."

"Even though they're related to him? I thought that any convicted felons had their wills dissolved."

There was a hoarse sound as Remus cleared his throat. "Don't worry, it's fine," he said at once. "Now, getting back to Ron and Ginny."

"We aren't staying, Mum," said the latter firmly. "Now can we just finish this up and go home? It's already getting dark."

"In my mind, we have finished it," Percy's mother said. "Your father thinks you should stay here and so do I. That's the end of the conversation."

"Mum!"

"Ginny, I'm not fond of your attitude."

"Hang on a second," said Oliver. "What if they stayed with us?"

Startled, Percy's head whipped around to look at Oliver. Oliver shrugged. "Well, it makes sense, really, if you think about it. They'd be on an unplottable island. From the impression I've gotten it's big enough that they could find lots to keep them occupied. They'll be able to see everything that's going on."

"That's what worries me," said Molly. "Oliver, it's very kind of you - "

"And we accept," said Ginny, to Ron's apparent surprise. "We wouldn't be in the way, would we, Oliver."

"Not in the slightest," he said, smiling. Percy felt like kissing him.

"There'll be no one to look after you."

"Good," said Ron. "We're not helpless. We won't annoy anyone and we'll do all of our own laundry."

"They'd be staying with family, instead of being right in the middle of all the commotion," Percy pointed out.

"You won't ever be home," said his mother.

"Oliver's family," said Ginny.

From the flustered look on his mother's face, Percy could tell that she wished they were having this conversation with Oliver away from the room - or better yet, not at all. "I like Oliver very much," she said, half addressing Oliver himself and half addressing Ginny, "but I think he'd agree that - "

"He's practically Percy's husband," said Ginny matter-of-factly.

"A boyfriend is not a husband, and that isn't because they're both men, I would say the same thing - Arthur, help me out of this!"

"I can see both points of view and therefore I think I'll stay out of it," he said after a moment's thought. Molly rolled her eyes heavenward.

Ginny decided to bring in an ally. "Remus agrees with me," she said.

"Ginny, that's enough."

"He does!"

"The topic of this conversation," said Arthur, glancing back and forth between Ginny and an expressionless Remus, "is whether you and Ron are going to live with Percy and Oliver until school starts or not. Let's finish it and be done."

"If she would learn to take no for an answer, it _would_ be finished," Molly retorted.

"I wouldn't mind living there," Ron said.

His mother regarded him silently for a second. "You wouldn't."

"No, not really. We'll be around people we know and it'll be better than staying here – no offense."

"Percy, what do you think?"

Instead of saying the first thing he thought of, he paused to consider his answer. "I'd love it if they'd come to live with us. Oliver could use the company while I'm gone and they'd most likely learn a lot."

"Come on, Mum," Ginny coaxed.

"What do you think, Arthur?"

"I think," Percy's father said, setting down the contraption he was making on the seat next to him, "that Oliver's done an excellent job taking care of one of our children, and that I trust him to be as careful with two others."

Oliver grinned and wrapped an arm around Percy's waist. "So, by Thursday?"

Molly exhaled slowly. "You'll make sure they're responsible for themselves and that they don't bother anyone?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to take them to Diagon Alley for school supplies. Ron in particular needs new robes. You have to remember that Ginny's allergic to bananas."

"Does that mean…" Ron began.

"You can stay with Oliver and Percy."

From outside the house there was a sudden sickening screech of tires, and then the sound of metal colliding with metal. Ginny and Remus raced to the windows, shortly followed by the rest of the people in the room.

"I can't see anything," Remus said. "Wait, hang on, there's this sort of dark blur. It's moving towards the house."

Voices carried from the front corridor.

"…and now you've gone and _smashed_ it, I don't know what you were thinking, you've got to slow down before you land it – "

"I thought I had slowed down!"

"_Smashed_ it…"

"I didn't, I dented it. That's a huge difference. We're here alive and unhurt, Hermione, so calm down."

"I hope Lupin has the same opinion you have when he finds out you've crashed Sirius's motorbike – "

"Don't worry, Harry, that thing's been in more accidents than I can count," Remus called. "We're in here."

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger staggered into the room, each of them carrying a suitcase. "Oy!" Ron shouted, and sprang over to the door and his friends.

"Ron, I feel terrible for you, when I think of Fred and George I just, oh, I'm sorry that – "

"Yeah, all right," Ron muttered, apparently embarrassed by the situation. "They're going to be all right."

Harry remained at a slight distance, a tactic that Percy recognized as one used by a person who knew he should say something but didn't know how to do it. "We've just been to see them," Harry said at last. "So…Order of Merlin, second class."

"Yeah."

"What exactly happened to the motorbike?" Remus asked, causing a visible look of relief on Harry's face.

"I couldn't quite tell where the ground was – " Hermione rolled her eyes " – and it ran into some dustbins. They were more damaged than the bike was, really." At that moment Harry froze. He had seen Percy from the corner of his eye. "Hello."

"Hello, Harry." Percy vacillated – it was so stupid, yet he could think of nothing else – then held out his hand. "If you'll allow me the honor and privilege."

Harry did.


	37. Part Four, Chapter Six

Part Four, Chapter Six

"So let me make sure I've got this," said Oliver, wiping a bit of toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. "He likes me, he's glad we're together, but he thinks we're taking things too fast?"

"Yeah." Percy sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "He told me he knows he can't do anything about it, but he doesn't think I'm ready for a sexual relationship. Which of course makes me feel like utter crap, seeing as I lost my virginity when I was seventeen. Did your dad ever talk with you about sex."

"Yeah," replied Oliver as he screwed the cap back on the toothpaste. "None of it did me any good, though, seeing as there's no chance of you getting pregnant."

"I honestly thought I was going to die," Percy said. "No, I _wanted_ to die. Then he asked if we were at least using condoms and I started thinking, 'Dear sweet Merlin, this is not happening. I am hallucinating. My father did not just ask me this question. I am not having a conversation with my father about safe gay sex.' And I didn't want to lie to him, so I said that we were fine, then he said that I was avoiding the question, so in the end I had to tell him that we don't." He sighed and stared at Oliver's feet. "Which meant that I then had to tell him that it wasn't an issue because we'd never had the opportunity to be exposed to any diseases."

"Penelope was a virgin?"

"Of course she was, we started dating when we were fifteen."

"That isn't any guarantee."

"Well, she _was_," Percy snapped. He was tired. "I'm the one who helped wash the blood out of the sheet, I think I should know."

"You're tired," said Oliver, turning towards the door.

"Of course I am," Percy admitted as he followed Oliver to the bedroom. "Tomorrow's Tuesday, we leave on Thursday, we've got to pack and figure out what to do with no longer one but two flats, you have that last match against the Holyhead Harpies. You have to play your last match on a team with stupid gits and Theo's funeral is tomorrow." He kicked off his slippers and got into bed, relishing the feel of cool blankets. "I'm thinking that we ought to give our flat to Fred and George and my old flat to Mundungus. He won't care about how tiny it is."

Oliver's eyes gazed, vaguely, at the ceiling. "That was kind of you," he said.

"Well, the flats have to go to someone and they're all currently homeless, so it's only the logical thing to do."

"Not that," said Oliver, his eyes snapping back into focus. He nudged Percy over and got into bed. "Washing the sheet."

"She couldn't get the stain out herself."

Oliver smiled, shook his head, and inched closer to Percy. "Shut up, Perce. It was a really sweet thing to do and you know it."

Lacking the strength of will to argue, Percy gave in. "Thanks." And the more he thought about it he realized it was kind, much kinder than the nights of coming in Oliver's hand, only to leave minutes later, that had followed. "I loved her," he said.

"I know you did."

"Even though I was an idiot I knew enough to love her." He nestled his head against Oliver's chest. "Even though I don't anymore I'm glad I did at the time."

"Me too," said Oliver, one finger grazing the top of Percy's hair before sliding down into the curls.

"Really?"

"Yeah, if you loved each other and she made you happy. I'm glad I dated all the blokes I did before I got to you." _Got to you the second time,_ Percy thought. "Even though some of them were so unbelievably wrong for me, because I think they make me more grateful to have you."

"They didn't treat you badly, though, did they?" The thought of it made him feel ill.

"No, beautiful, they didn't," Oliver murmured. "They just weren't very mature, most of the time, and Gerald wasn't very smart."

"So why did you date them?"

"Why? Well, Gerald was nice, even if we had nothing in common, and it was okay with him that I didn't want to have sex. That was especially important then because Jonathan, the one before him, had a bad habit of slipping his hands down my trousers when I'd told him not to. I think he thought that if I was turned on enough I'd change my mind. He was a Muggle, too. Never even knew I was a wizard."

"What was _his_ redeeming quality?"

Oliver made a clicking sound with his mouth. "I liked how he showed me off to his friends. Back then I was too ignorant to figure out that he was only proud of how muscular I was and didn't give a damn about my brain.

"Reginald I dated – "

"Reginald of the porn shop?"

"The same. Reginald I dated because he had a certain rugged quality that appealed to me. He – okay, this is embarrassing."

"What?" Percy asked immediately.

"He liked wanking me in back alleys and it was really good."

"You let him do that?"

Oliver sighed and rested his hand on the top of Percy's head. "Yeah, I did, although I'm not proud of it."

"He was the one after me, wasn't he."

"Yes, he was."

"Then I don't blame you at all. I wish you hadn't done it, but I can understand it." He stopped. "You two didn't do anything else, did you?"

"No, never," Oliver reassured him. "HIV paranoia – and he was definitely experienced. You know, I know it was really embarrassing to talk to your dad, but be glad he cares enough. Christopher's parents didn't gave a damn about him."

"I don't know who Christopher is."__

"Friend of my cousin's who died of AIDS. It's weird, because I'd only met him maybe three times and we were never friends, really. When Christopher died, I hadn't seen him since I was fifteen. I was dating Reginald by then."

"Was that why you broke up with Reginald? Christopher dying?"

"Yeah. Not right away, after about a month. Then I found out he'd been cheating on me with his landlord and I thought, _to hell with all this, I'm not doing anything with anyone until I know for an absolute fact that I can trust him_."

"I'm sorry, Ol." Percy sat up slightly to kiss Oliver's forehead.

"Oh, it wasn't completely your fault. If I had to pick one thing that was the most to blame it would be those damn novels Jean-Marc wrote. They're great when you know they're just fantasy, but if you're seventeen and they're all you know about gay sex they're positively lethal. Wait, I take the 'all you know' part back. Jean-Marc and Louis are very committed to each other and always have been."

"I'd like to meet them."

"You probably will, sometime. Now enough with all this, you've got to sleep. Put your head here on my chest. That's it."

Theo Asato Worthington, the headstone read. _1976-1996. Son, brother, and friend._

From where Percy stood with Oliver he could see Theo's parents standing on the other side of the grave. They were very calm, which made Percy feel guilty about the tears building up in his eyes; if Theo's own parents weren't crying, what gave him the right? Theo's two sisters and brother were equally silent.

The funeral was over, technically, but fifteen minutes later no one had left the grave. Lane stood to the left of Oliver along with his enormously pregnant wife. She looked around uncomfortably, the gaze of a woman witnessing the grief of strangers. Percy felt a rush of sympathy for her. When Remus was the first to leave the cemetery Lane noticed Claudette's rigid shoulders and they followed.

"Theo looked a lot like his mum," Oliver whispered once he and Percy were at the gate.

"Yeah." There were vines growing on the iron fence. "The rest of them look like his dad." He wondered if Theo's mother had thought of how the child closest to her mirror image was gone. He wondered if the rest of the family would be especially reminded of Theo when they looked at her.

"Hey, you two."

"Hello, Lane," Oliver said. He swallowed. "Hell of a way to see each other after two years."

Lane shifted uncomfortably. "This is Claudette," he said. "My wife. She's due in October."

"Hello," she said timidly.

A son is different than other sorts of relatives, Percy could hear Oliver's father saying in his head. _He's a part of you in a way that no one else is; he's literally a part of your blood. In him you can see yourself and your wife, along with things that are solely his own and no one else's._

"Congratulations," he said, and silently wished them luck as Theo's parents began to walk towards the fence.

Oliver had to leave for work immediately after they'd finished speaking with Lane and Claudette; he'd apparently aroused Penge's wrath with his sudden decision to leave the team and freshly provoked him by asking to have a few hours off. Percy was left to return to headquarters with Remus. Neither was in the mood to bother with magic and they decided to walk the short distance.


	38. Part Four, Chapter Seven

Part Four, Chapter Seven

"Everyone is moving these days, it seems," said Remus after they had walked in silence for a few minutes past a dingy row of shops. A gust of wind swept up the refuse that lay in the street, only to die down and set it back onto the ground. "You and Oliver leave for the Caribbean with Ron and Ginny on Thursday, I'm gone to Wiltshire with Harry on Friday, and Oliver tells me that you two are considering giving your flats to Fred, George, and Mundungus."

"Yeah," said Percy. "Mine to Dung, and mine and Oliver's to the twins. That is, if they want or need it. I don't know what they're going to do when they get out of hospital. Harry's going to Wiltshire with you?" Two Muggle women came chattering out of a shop.

"I'm one of the only adults he has left," said Remus quietly. A very solemn look came over his face, and he lowered his eyes. " And the very last of his parents' good friends. He can't stand staying with his aunt and uncle, so when I asked him to Evermore he accepted. That's the cottage where I'll be living," he added, seeing the question in Percy's raised eyebrows.

They turned the corner. "Have you been there before?" Percy asked.

"Yes, I have. I lived there as a young man. It's a small place, out of the way, about seven miles from any neighbors; after a year in London I think I'll like it very much."

Remus did not speak for again, but Percy suddenly remembered what Ginny had said, and as they neared Grimmauld Place his curiosity became overwhelming. "Er…Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Ginny said…did you really say that Oliver's practically my husband?"

To Percy's surprise, Remus's mouth set in a tight line, and he began to walk very briskly. "No, I didn't, although I did tell your mother that I wouldn't be surprised if Oliver ended up becoming a permanent part of the family."

"He will be." As far as Percy was concerned, he already was.

They had reached number twelve; Remus hastily pulled his wand from his pocket and climbed the steps. Before he opened the door Percy asked, "How did Sirius like being in charge of foreign affairs?"

He felt his body constrict in nervous fear as Remus slowly lowered his wand. The other man did not turn to face Percy before he spoke. "Why do you ask me that." It was said so softly, and so evenly, that it did not sound like a question.

"Well," Percy stammered, "you two were friends and all, weren't you? I was just wondering." Remus had readily talked about Sirius before. Percy felt his face turn red as he tried to think of what error or insensitivity he had committed. Perhaps, walking home from a funeral, Remus did not want to think about another person who had died in the war. Yet he had mentioned Harry's parents – "If you don't – "

"He was very good at it," Remus said curtly. "It took a lot of his energy. He didn't find a lot of time to be home. I don't know how he felt about what the job entailed."

"Oh," Percy whispered.

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

Remus made no answer. Once they were inside Percy went hurriedly to find Bill and Charlie, and Remus did not follow.

As Percy sat with the rest of his family around George's hospital bed, he found himself feeling very relieved that Oliver was so much larger than he was. They were holding hands; the warmth of Oliver's strong fingers provided a sanctuary for Percy's hand, which had curled up into a ball. Oliver's voice too was a comfort. "I'm not sure how everything is going to work in the Aerial Branch, but I've spoken to the Healers, and they say that the damage to the upper part of your leg is minimal enough that your flying shouldn't be affected."

"You mean my right leg," George said dully, vacant eyes staring at Oliver. "It can't have an upper part if it doesn't have a lower part."

"Your right leg," said Oliver softly.

George, who had been sitting up to speak to his visitors, let himself fall back onto the bed. "It isn't a matter of whether I can," he said cynically. "The fact is, I just don't fucking _want_ to."

Molly did not reprimand her son for his language, which Percy took to be a very bad sign indeed. "Fred would be with you," she said timidly.

"I'm not Fred, Mum. Did you think we would follow each other everywhere for the rest of our lives?"

Arthur glanced at his wife and took over. "George, your life isn't going to end because you lost half your leg."

George snorted. "Unfortunately."

His mother gasped; Percy gripped Oliver's hand and said immediately, "He doesn't mean it, Mum."

"Shut up, Percy," said George. The only emotion in his voice was mild irritation. "It doesn't concern you."

The room erupted. Bill and Charlie tried to reason with George, speaking in low, urgent tones; George gave them cutting and sarcastic answers. Percy's mother turned to his father and her mouth began to shake as she spoke to him. Ron and Ginny began an argument about something; Percy couldn't tell what it was over the clamor of the other voices. Oliver leaned close to him and the grasp of their hands tightened.

"Look," George finally managed to say over the noise, "I really don't feel like seeing any of you today, so could – "

"That's too bloody bad!" his mother replied angrily. Ron looked at her, impressed. "The Healers say you should be ready to leave here in a week. If you think we're going to let you wallow in your own misery without a single thought as to what you'll do when you leave here, you're wrong, George Gideon Weasley. Before we leave here we're going to have some sort of preliminary plan, and none of it will include self-destruction. None of us are fighting this war so that you can be defeated."

"I'm not joining the Aerial Branch," said George stubbornly.

"That's fine. I don't care if you join the Aerial Branch, or any of the other branches, or if you decide you need some time at home to recover."

"I'm _not_ going to sit home."

"All right. What do you want to do?"

"I want to have my life back the way it was," George said. "However, I can't do that, so I'd like to be left alone."

"You could come an' stay with me if you want."

When Percy recognized the voice he felt relief settle upon him. Mundungus was standing against the back wall, wearing a dressing gown and leaning on a cane.

"I'll be making more weapons for the Order. Percy is going to let me his flat – "

"I haven't asked you yet," said Percy faintly.

"Remus beat yeh to it. I accept. Anyway, George, you could stay there with me help with the weapons, till you had an idea what you wanted to do."

For the first time since his family had entered the room George dropped the sneer that had overcome his mouth.

"Mundungus, that's very kind of you," said Molly cautiously, "but considering how he's been feeling lately, and considering your…lifestyle, I don't think that it – "

"I won't let 'im drink," Mundungus snapped. "I don't let other people have any of mine if I think it'll do 'em more harm than good. Besides, Figgy would have my hide, she's already told me that she's coming by the flat every day to make sure I'm taking good care of Tibblentina."

"Who?"

"Tibbles's daughter. Little kneazle-cat that's coming to live with me once I've gotten out of hospital. Right sweet little girl, looks like her dad except for the white paws."

George wanted to speak to Mundungus alone.

"He hasn't just lost his leg," Oliver said as he passed the green beans to Percy. "He's lost his identity. Fred-and-George, identical twins, funny and play lots of pranks."

"Which is a much better way to be known than Percy-who-has-no-life-but-work," Percy replied. "People loved Fred and George. I mean, they still do, but – "

" – but they won't be the ones who make everything funny anymore," Oliver finished. "It's hard to find things funny once you've killed a man and had a part of your body amputated. The shop is gone too. Do you think they'll start the business up again?"

"They might, at least to make some money."

As Oliver drained a glass of milk, Percy studied him. "Ol," he said at last, "you and Remus are pretty good friends, right?"

"Well, we aren't _very_ close," Oliver answered, "but there are some things we understand about each other. Why do you ask?"

"I asked him how Sirius liked being Foreign Affairs Coordinator," Percy said. The mere memory made him tense. "I know he's usually quiet, but you should have seen him. He was _cold_. Normally I wouldn't have asked him – you don't want to bring up people's dead friends, of course – but he's talked about Sirius other times, so I didn't think it would be a bad thing to ask. Just to get some more information about the job. He was just – you'd think I'd done something awful. I _feel_ awful."

"Don't," Oliver said. He pushed back his chair and stood. "It was probably because it was right after a funeral."

"That was the only thing I could think of."

Oliver paused for a moment, then began to take the empty dishes from the table. "Don't worry about it. You didn't do anything wrong." But there was something about the quickness of his answer, so different from his usual contemplating way of thought, that made Percy uneasy.

By the time they went to bed, however, Oliver was no different than he usually was, and he murmured adoringly in Percy's ear as they made love.


	39. Part Four, Chapter Eight

Part Four, Chapter Eight

Percy awoke to the sound of knocking at the door. Were they leaving for the Caribbean already? No, of course not, that was tomorrow, right after Oliver played his last Quidditch match. The knock on the door couldn't be very important. He slid a hand between Oliver's legs and gently cupped the left thigh, not moving his hand, letting Oliver feel the possibilities. Oliver opened his eyes slowly and smiled.

The knock came again. Oliver sat up with a start. "Damn, they're here already."

Now Percy was fully awake. "Who?"

"Ginny and Ron, your mum told me yesterday that they would come over and help us pack." He grabbed the clock from the table next to the bed. "_Damn_, I've got to be at work in fifteen minutes."

"Percy? Oliver?"

"One moment!" Percy called. Then, to Oliver, in a frantic whisper, "I can't answer the door like this!"

"You could have thought of that before you decided to be my personal sexual alarm clock."

"I didn't know they were coming, Ol, because my mum didn't tell me and neither did you – "

"I was going to, except you started talking about Remus and then I forgot." He snatched back the blankets and flung open the doors of the wardrobe. "Christ, if I'm late Penge won't think twice about letting me watch my last match from the sidelines – "

"Oliver!" Percy hissed. "What about the door?"

"Start thinking of the least arousing things you can, get your dressing gown, and go answer it."

Oliver's erection had softened. "You do it!"

"Percy, I have to get ready for work."

Bloody hell. Percy grabbed his dressing gown from the floor and began to think as he tied the sash. _Dead flobberworms, oven grease, the Slytherin Quidditch team of 1994, naked trolls –_ The last did the job quite sufficiently. He raced down the corridor and turned the knob to find Ron and Ginny, looking rather curious and perplexed.

"Oliver," Percy said as he hurriedly ushered them through the door, "neglected to tell me that you were arriving. Sit here for a bit – " he gestured to the sitting room " – and give me a minute to get dressed."

"Right," said Ron, looking as though he thought Percy had misplaced about half his brains.

Back in the bedroom Oliver was throwing clean clothes for after practice into his bag. "Meet you at Grimmauld Place a few minutes after three," he said. "You all should have finished packing by then, right?"

Oliver wouldn't be there to help Percy leave the first place they had ever made love. "What's at Grimmauld Place?"

"Final meeting before everyone takes off to various corners of the world," said Oliver, in a tone that indicated he thought this should be obvious to Percy. "You remember."

"No, Oliver, I don't bloody remember something that no one told me in the first place." Percy snapped. "Who told you?"

The sound of Oliver zipping his bag resonated in the silent room. "Remus did."

The name touched a nerve. "Oh, well maybe while you're telling me things no one bothered to tell me before, you can tell me what the hell is _with_ you two." Percy grabbed the first robe he saw in his wardrobe and pulled it over his head.

"What," said Oliver slowly, "the hell are you talking about?"

"Is he another one of you on-friendly-terms exes? From what I understand, you joined the Order a few days before I did. That's a pretty short time to be on a first-name basis with a former teacher and think that you can show up at his house in the middle of the night."

"Percy, if you honestly think – "

"Everyone always talks about him like they know something I don't. That's it, isn't it. He was your boyfriend."

"That's not true."

"Well, then, explain to me why he's so damn set against us having any sort of communication while I'm gone. Thinks he's going to keep you company?"

"That's not true!" Oliver's eyes had grown very intense.

"Then you'd better tell me what _is_ true, because you haven't told me everything, and right now that's the only explanation I can think of!"

Oliver swallowed; Percy could tell that he was trying to suppress his anger. "Perce, remember when we were talking about not throwing screaming fits?"

"Yeah," Percy shot back, "and I remember how you hate it when people don't tell the truth. Can you honestly tell me that I know everything that everyone else knows about Remus?"

Neither looked away from the other's piercing gaze. "It's complicated," Oliver said.

"Which means no."

"Yes, which means no! For God's sake, Percy, will you just trust me on this one? He's never been my boyfriend, and he's too good of a person to help someone cheat on their lover."

"Everyone acts like he's some goddamned saint," Percy muttered.

There was a pause, and then Oliver hoisted the bag over his shoulder. "I have to go. I promise you I'll explain everything after the meeting at Grimmauld Place, and I promise you that even if I haven't told you the whole story I didn't lie to you. Can you trust me on that?"

"Yes," said Percy wearily, and then, "You haven't had any breakfast."

"I have snacks in the bag. See you around three."

"All right."

"Kiss me."

He did.

"Did you have a fight?" Ginny asked when Oliver had disapparated and Percy had finally returned to the sitting room.

"We had a slight argument." He put his hands on his hips and looked around. "The place in the Caribbean is supposed to be fully furnished, so basically what I need you two for is to box up all the smaller things. I'll put Cushioning Charms on the sides of the boxes so nothing breaks. If you have any questions about something ask me. And for God's sake, stay out of the library."

"I have something to ask you," said Ron about two hours later, as he and Percy piled extra bars of soap into a box, next to the shampoo. "It's sort of a weird question."

"Oh, wonderful," said Percy dryly. "That's exactly what I need, Ron, thank you. Ask and get it over with."

Either Ron ignored this advice, or he thought he couldn't continue without a preface. "Well, you know how you like blokes and all that?"

"Actually, I'd forgotten that particular piece of information. Look, if this is going to be some question about what exactly Oliver and I do in bed, I'm not answering it. Go ask Bill what exactly he did with the veela girl."

Ron scowled. "You're acting like a stupid git again."

"I can't have you thinking I'm too perfect, now, can I. Honestly, Ron, this day has been steadily getting worse since I woke up, and unless this question is important I'd rather you didn't ask it."

"It's important to _me_," Ron retorted. "Does _that_ count?"

"Yes, you bloody well know that counts. Go ahead."

"Perce?"

He could have strangled him. "Yes, Ronniekins?"

"Did you ever fancy Crouch?"

It took a few seconds for Percy to fully comprehend what his brother had said. "What?"

"Crouch. Did you fancy him?"

He was serious. He was honest-to-God serious. "Ron, he was old enough to be my father and he had an impeccably neat bristly mustache."

"So you didn't."

His sincere earnestness pushed Percy over the edge. He dropped the bar of soap he was holding and began to laugh. "Oh sweet Merlin…Crouch…oh…_Crouch_…!"

"It isn't that stupid of a question," said Ron stubbornly. "You were obsessed with him and then we find out you're gay."

"_Crouch_!…I told you, I'm not gay."

"Bisexual, whatever. Stop it, it isn't funny!"

Of course, whenever someone vehemently insists that something isn't funny, it becomes funnier still. Percy laughed harder and Ron began to look a bit scared.

"Percy, okay, calm down – "

"I can't. If I don't keep laughing I'll be incredibly insulted by that question."

Ron ignored him and picked up the bar of soap Percy had dropped. "What's Oliver like to live with?"

"He cooks well," said Percy, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Interesting to talk to. He keeps the bed nice and warm, but that's not the sort of information that's going to apply to you."

A heated flush rose in Ron's cheeks. "You're getting too sensitive, Ron," said Percy casually. "I'm just talking." The blush darkened and Percy decided he had better lay off for a bit. "I don't think I've said this before: Congratulations about making Keeper."

"Thanks," muttered Ron. "I was really lousy until the last match."

"Well, that's understandable, people are never excellent at something right away."

"I bet Oliver was."

Percy smiled. "He was good, but if you ever want to hear him rant for about half an hour or so, ask him about the time in second year when he got stuck in the goal post. I think he was a bit overeager to prove himself during that match; it was only his second, and the first one had ended in eight minutes. The Quaffle was heading straight for the goal. He rushed at it and caught it – caught it after it had already gone through. Ol had been straining so hard to catch it that he slipped halfway off his broomstick and ended up lying on his stomach across the bottom of the hoop, one half of his body sticking out either side."

"You're kidding," said Ron, a hint of a smile twitching his mouth.

"No, I swear it's true. I made the mistake of telling Fred and George about it once I got home for the summer, and they never forgot it. By the time they were second-years and Oliver was in fourth no one else remembered a thing about Ol getting stuck in the goal post, but they did, and they weren't even there. I remember Oliver storming back up to the dormitory and telling me that if I didn't get my stupid brothers to leave him alone he was going to tie them into knots and use them as Quaffles himself. I suppose you're worried about Fred and George."

"Not too much."

"It's all right if you are." Percy closed the box. "I am."

"They're tough, though," said Ron, and Percy realized the two of them were actually having a significant conversation.

"Kingsley, have you seen my box of Fizzing Whizbees?" Dedalus Diggle was anxiously searching headquarters.

"Sorry, I haven't."

"I had them, I know I had them, and I was going to give them to everyone if there were enough, but now I can't find them, and that's fourteen Sickles' worth of Fizzing Whizbees that have disappeared!"

Mundungus had just gotten out of St. Mungo's, although he had a standing appointment there every day for the next two weeks. He seemed very disappointed that Percy and Oliver had not gotten him the promised bottle of alcohol, and didn't pay attention to their protests that he hadn't told them he was getting out. His mood improved for the better, though, when he managed to corner Hermione Granger and show her the latest photographs of Tibblentina.

"Fizzing Whizbees don't just vanish!"

"From the way he's bouncing around the place," Percy whispered to Oliver, "I'd say he's eaten the Fizzing Whizbees and forgotten about it."

"Albus, are you ready to begin?" McGonagall was sitting on a small blue armchair, and although she had patiently observed the talkative fervor going on around her, she looked as though she were about to snap.

"Yes, I believe so, if – does anyone know where Hestia has gotten to?"

"I'm right over here!" called a voice from the other end of the room.

"Thank you, Hestia. Hasn't Remus come downstairs yet?"

"Yes," said Remus, who was standing right next to the staircase.

"All right. I'd like to start with individual reports from everyone. Dedalus, we'll begin with you."

Dedalus Diggle began to talk about some connections he had in the Floo Network office, but Percy was only half-listening. He was looking at Oliver, and wondering what on earth the full story about Remus could be. Of course, considering that the man was a werewolf it could be any number of things, but what thing would mostly everyone know except for Percy? Perhaps Remus had –

Dedalus let out a sudden gasp. "Second floor corridor."

"What?" asked Dumbledore, perplexed.

"That's where I left the Fizzing Whizbees. Second floor corridor. Oh, could someone run up and get them for me, I'm sure to forget where they are by the time I've finished – "

"I'll do it," said Mundungus, but Percy objected.

"Not with your leg. I'll get them. Just laying somewhere in the corridor?"

"Yes. Thank you so much. Anyway, once they've checked with the Argentine Ministry – "

Percy walked past Remus and began to climb the steps. Really, if Dedalus couldn't remember where he'd left a box of candy, it was a surprise that he was allowed to investigate something as important as the Floo Network office.

Upon seeing the upper corridor, it was easy to see the box. It lay next to the second door on the left, which was open. Percy picked up the box and was about to head back downstairs when he realized that he knew the door's room. It was Remus's, the one Percy and Oliver had slept in.

He peered inside. Two suitcases lay open on the bed, and the doors to both wardrobes were open. It seemed that Remus was in the midst of packing. Both curious and not particularly willing to sit through a report about the Argentine Ministry, Percy went inside and looked at the open wardrobes.

The one on the right held a number of shabby robes, many of which Percy recognized from the year Remus had taught at Hogwarts. Four pairs of scuffed shoes sat at the bottom. Finding nothing very interesting, he looked at the wardrobe on the left.

Half of it was occupied by several pairs of Muggle jeans on hangers; Percy tried to imagine Remus wearing jeans and failed. A number of brighter and newer robes were next to them. At the very end was a black motorbike jacket. Percy pulled the other clothes over to one side so he could look at it.

It did not seem very worn, although it had the smell of old leather. Leather, lavender, and perhaps a bit of cologne.

A silver chain with a large rectangular piece of metal hung around the hanger's hook. Percy knew that he should get back downstairs, but he was too inquisitive, and no one would mind if he were gone another minute. He reached into the wardrobe and pulled the chain toward himself. There was an inscription on the rectangle.

__

Sirius: I told you I was going to get you a dog tag. Happy anniversary – it's been a great three years. Love you always, Remus.


	40. Part Four, Chapter Nine

Part Four, Chapter Nine

"Perce, it's too hot to sleep with you on top of me."

"Too bad," Percy murmured. His hands pressed against Oliver's shoulders. _He is alive. He is here and he is mine and he is not dead._

"Percy, really. I love you, but we've got a busy day tomorrow and we really need to sleep. Come on, off." Oliver tried to nudge Percy over to the other side of the bed but was unsuccessful. "I'm right here, beautiful, I'm not going to go anywhere if you lie on your own side of the bed."

"I'm going to Canada on Sunday," Percy said morosely. "If I died you'd wish you'd let me sleep on top of you."

Sitting up, Oliver physically lifted Percy off of him and set his lover down with his head on the other pillow. "You aren't going to die. I'm not going to die," he said with conviction. "We are both going to survive this war and when it's over we'll settle down and live peaceful lives. I'll go back to Quidditch if I can and you'll do what you want. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," said Percy, "but I don't believe the Death Eaters will be inclined to agree with you."

There was a frustrated sigh and then Oliver took Percy's hand. "Don't let Remus and Sirius depress you, Perce."

"I can't help but let it depress me," Percy said. The fingertips that had touched the dog tag felt different from his other skin. "I don't to be left with memories and a wardrobe with clothes that still smell like you."

Oliver's other hand rested on Percy's neck, and suddenly Percy was overcome with the urge to verify that Oliver was alive. He grabbed him and kissed him hard on the mouth. Oliver let out a small sound of protest.

"Look, in the morning you'll – "

"Ol, just shut up," Percy whispered. He was aroused, not so much from desire as from necessity. He climbed on top of Oliver and quickly undressed him.

"Percy – "

"I need to feel you," he breathed, the trembling in his voice barely restrained. "Please, Oliver. Please."

Oliver lay back and nodded, his lips pressed together. Their lovemaking was brief and intense. _I know you are alive because I feel your sweat, _Percy thought. _I know you are alive because you cry out as I enter you and grip my back as I thrust._ _As you wrap your legs around mine I feel their weight and know that I am not dead._

" – up, love, there's someone to see you."

Percy opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. The sun that came in through the window was too bright.

"Percy, Remus is here to see you." A large hand ran its fingers through Percy's hair. "He won't mind if you just throw on your dressing gown and talk to him. Come on, I don't want to keep him waiting. Can you hear me, Perce?"

He forced himself to open his eyes and nodded. "What time is it?"

"Around seven o'clock in the morning. Breakfast is made, I've eaten already. I don't need to be at the Puddlemere pitch until half past nine."

"Remus is here to see me?"

"Yes. Not me, you, he specified you." Oliver opened the wardrobe and took out Percy's dressing gown.

When Percy walked into the kitchen he saw Remus before Remus saw him, although the image took a moment to register in his mind because Remus was wearing a pair of jeans and an un-tucked white oxford shirt. After a second Remus looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs and smiled. "I hope I didn't wake you too early."

"Not really," said Percy in a slightly dazed voice. He sat down on the chair opposite from Remus's seat and reached for a cup of coffee; just as he was taking his first sip Oliver's voice called, "Make sure you eat something other than coffee, Perce!"

Percy rolled his eyes; Remus laughed softly. "The eggs are very good."

"Yeah, Ol's eggs usually are." Percy scooped some from the bowl in the middle of the table onto his plate. "So, he said you – "

"Yes," said Remus. "I want to talk to you.

"First of all," he began, "if a person is going to investigate a place without the owner's knowledge, he would do well to make sure that everything, including dog tags, is exactly the way he found it when he leaves."

Percy's hand froze with his fork over his plate. Oh _damn_. Oh _shit_.

When he finally made himself look at Remus he found that the other man did not appear angry. "I don't blame you, Percy," he said. "When I was your age and younger I didn't think anything of going through other people's things if I felt they weren't being completely honest with me."

"I didn't think you were _lying_," Percy said. "I thought you were – "

"Withholding information?"

"Well, yeah. I mean," he continued quickly, "I couldn't understand how it was that you and Oliver got along so well, after he'd just joined the Order a few days before I did. And when he didn't tell me I didn't know _what_ to think."

"I wouldn't be upset with Oliver," Remus said. "He was keeping a promise he made to me; one that I know now I shouldn't have asked him to keep."

"I'm not upset with him," said Percy, and then, "He promised you he wouldn't tell me about you and Sirius?"

Remus slowly set down his fork and lowered his eyes. "Yes. The reasons I asked him to are a bit complicated, but I'll tell them to you if you want to hear them – " he looked up " – which I assume you do."

"Yes. I do."

"To begin with," Remus said, "when I was your teacher I had the feeling that you were attracted to men. It wasn't anything in particular that you said or did, it was just a general sort of intuition. Perhaps all former closeted prefects have a way of recognizing their modern-day counterparts."

Percy smiled. "You were a prefect?"

"Oh yes. I'm afraid you would have found me a horrible one, but yes, I was a prefect.

"Once I had that feeling, I didn't give it much thought. That year I was hiding two volatile secrets: that I am a werewolf and that Sirius had been my former lover. Either one of those things, in the hands of the wrong people, could have had me legitimately sacked."

"A person can get sacked for being queer?"

"No, a person can get sacked if their lover is Azkaban's most notorious prisoner since Grindelwald and there's reason to suspect their loyalties towards their lover haven't changed. Which mine had, not that I could have proved it. I was fully convinced Sirius was a traitorous murderer and every time I saw his picture in the Prophet I wanted to reach into it and throttle him. Of course I never wanted to believe it, but I'd told myself I would be a fool to keep thinking otherwise.

"As I'm sure you know, the strain of keeping secrets is emotionally exhausting."

"Yeah," Percy agreed, remembering covert glances at handsome boys and the constant fear that someone would notice.

"I had two secrets, and if I didn't keep constant vigilance over both of them my life could take a definite turn for the worse. By the end of the school year I was close to my breaking point. Do you remember the day I became angry at Marcus Flint?"

"I remember when you stared him down and I thought the perpetual calmness might have finally snapped," said Percy.

"Well, it hadn't, but I had. I've become used – a bit _too_ used, Sirius always said – to hiding my emotions. When I become angry I tend to abandon my better judgement. That day I had a point to make and I was going to make it no matter what. So I decided to ask a question, and unfortunately I asked you."

Percy remembered the feel of the blood rising in his face, the alarmed thoughts flashing in his head. "That's all right," he muttered.

"No, it wasn't. If I had given it a second's thought I never would have asked you. That isn't the main part of my explanation, but keep it in mind as I continue.

"You should be proud to know that Oliver was a great help to me shortly after Sirius's death. He joined the Order the day after it happened, and while everyone else's thoughts ran along the lines of 'oh, poor Remus, yet another tragedy in his life', Oliver's were ignorant and that ignorance made all the difference. He didn't pity me. He didn't pity me, and it was the knowledge that someone didn't see me as fragile that helped me to believe in my own strength. When he learned that Sirius had been my lover his opinions toward me didn't change.

"And then he started dating you.

"He confided in me about the relationship – not the intimate moments, don't worry about that, but the general updates and his uncertainties about you. Oliver wanted to be with you but he was worried that you'd talk yourself out of it. At that point, of course – and at this point too, if I'm honest with myself – most of my thoughts were about Sirius. The good times, the things I wish I'd said to him, the things I wish I hadn't said to him, the times when in retrospect we would have been all right if we'd taken the extra minute to listen to each other. My work and Oliver's visits were the only things that interrupted. Before long, the amount of similarities that you and Sirius share occurred to me."

"Really?" Percy asked. From what he had gathered Sirius had been far bolder than he himself had ever been in his life.

"You both had uneasy relationships with your families – although Sirius's were far worse than yours. You share tendencies to say things in anger that you later wish you hadn't said. Both clever, both opinionated, both proud, both somewhat immature at times. Two men with strong convictions. He loved his brother very much, as you love all of yours, but like you he had a hard time tolerating flaws and errors, and that was what drove them apart in the end. Sirius was very loyal like you are, but also like you he was capable, as a young man, of letting other things take precedence over his love and committing an utterly stupid betrayal."

As Remus's words sank in Percy's mouth slowly fell open in horror. "Did Oliver tell you about – about the prefects' bathroom and – "

"The general idea, yes. The details, no."

Percy buried his face in his hands and groaned. "I would never do that to him again, not in a million years, not for – "

"I know." Remus's voice was gentle. "After Sirius tried to turn Snape into a wolf's dinner he never let the thought cross his mind again."

"Wait a minute, he tried to feed you _Snape?_"

"When the three of us were in school.

"Oliver visited me quite a lot, which I understood. Over time I found myself reacting too strongly to your faults."

"Because they were Sirius's," Percy said slowly.

"Yes. I feared that if I became closer to you my anger would unfairly transfer to you. After embarrassing you in class, I wasn't about to do that. So I told Oliver to promise me he wouldn't tell you about Sirius and me, hoping that the less you knew about me the farther apart we would stay." He smiled slightly and bit his lip. "When I saw the dog tag hanging out of the wardrobe I figured that strategy had run its course, and that the best thing to do would be to tell you the whole truth.

"It was," Percy said. "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Did it ever scare you to be with Sirius, knowing that you might lose him?"

"It did," Remus replied. "And in the end, I lost him anyway. Caution will help you; worrying won't."

Percy swallowed hard, tears forming in his eyes.

"But his death wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to us," Remus said.

Percy looked up. "It wasn't?"

"No." Remus's tone was calm; his eyes were at peace. "My biggest fear was always that the dementors would take his soul. He fought them for over a decade and in the end he won. His soul still lives, Percy. It's been separated from mine, but someday the day will come when I will die and our separation will be at an end."

"But what if there is no afterlife?" Percy asked before he could stop himself.

"There is."

"But what if there isn't?"

Remus reached across the table and took his hand. "If this world is a just one, those who love each other will never be apart for eternity," he said. "And if I didn't believe that this is a just world, I wouldn't be fighting this war."


	41. Part Four, Chapter Ten

Part Four, Chapter Ten

" – and that's the eighth goal intercepted by Wood, he's showing stellar concentration and reflexes, let's hope he'll return to the game after his extended leave of absence – "

"Damn, it's leaked out," Percy groaned. "The public wasn't supposed to know that."

"Pretty soon it won't matter," said Ian.

" – Pritchard sends the Quaffle into Holyhead territory, where it's caught by Rold, Rold of Holyhead – she passes to Jones-Bardford, Jones-Barford throws it to Cassidy – she dives – Taris of Puddlemere is right on her tail, will Taris catch it, she's inches away – and Cassidy completes the pass."

The Puddlemere side of the stadium booed.

"Cassidy's racing toward the Puddlemere goal post, Jackson sends a Bludger her way – she dodges, the Bludger is seized by Holyhead's Sarah Thriston, Thriston smacks it right at Wood – "

"Come on, Ol," moaned Oliver's parents in unison.

"Wood ducks, the Bludger flies through the goal post, will the Quaffle follow, Cassidy throws – AND DOUGLAS HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH, HE'S IN HOT PURSUIT, WITH FOX FOLLOWING AT TOP SPEED – the Quaffle's been intercepted, that's number nine for Oliver Wood, he throws to Meritt, Douglas flies inches from Meritt's face, still after the Snitch, Meritt grabs for the Quaffle – it's taken from under his nose by Rold – Douglas and Fox are flying parallel, the odds are fifty-fifty, the Snitch bolts to the right – Rold throws, Wood lunges – DOUGLAS IS NEARLY THERE, IT'S SKIMMING THE TIPS OF HIS FINGERS, ANY SECOND – DOUGLAS CATCHES THE SNITCH!"

The Quaffle shot past the top of Oliver's head and through the goal, but Puddlemere had already won and the goal was void. "TWO HUNDRED AND TEN TO FORTY!" Michael hollered. "PUDDLEMERE! THAT'S MY BOY!"

"Your boy too," Ian whispered, nudging Percy in the ribs. Anne overheard and smiled.

Oliver was drifting down onto the pitch, his eyes searching for the four in the stands. "OL!" Percy yelled, waving his arms. Oliver spotted him and waved back, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Well," said Anne, slightly choked with tears, "it was a wonderful note to end on."

"Will he be able to go back, when whatever-it-is is over?" Ian asked. "I know you can't really tell me, but – "

"At this point, it's anyone's guess," Anne replied. "I hope so."

Percy, beaming, barely heard her. For the first time that he could remember, another person's accomplishment made him as proud as he would have been had the victory been his own. He smiled as Oliver landed on the pitch and headed for the locker room.

"I'm going to wait at the locker room door," Percy said.

Ian laughed. "Quidditch groupie."

"Shut up, Ian." Not a bad bloke, Ian McTavish. Not a bad bloke at all.

There were quite a few people, witches mostly, trying to get to the door leading to the team's private corridor. A thickly-built guard held them all a wand's length away. He was called Tobias; Percy had met him a few hours earlier when Oliver had shown him around the stadium. "Excuse me...excuse me..." Several of the witches had very thick make-up and were aggressively pushing each other as they tried to be the closest to Tobias. Most ignored Percy.

Fortunately, a few years of social climbing had taught Percy how to cut through a crowd. He reached Tobias having suffered only a crushed foot and a shove to the back. "Hello, I'm Percy. We were introduced earlier."

Tobias thought for a second. "Wood's bloke, right?"

Percy grinned. "That's right."

"Miss, you can't – one second, mate – miss, I'm sorry, you can't go in there." The offending witch gave Tobias a very nasty look and walked away on sharp blue heels. "Sorry about that."

"That's all right."

"Go on through."

"Thank you."

The throng became even louder as Percy passed Tobias and started down the corridor.

Steam floated through the open door of the men's locker room. Percy leaned back against the wall and waited. Victorious voices bounced off the walls and to Percy's straining ears; he could not hear Oliver's among them. A young woman in purple trousers came down the corridor and leaned against the opposite wall, the one that held the door to the women's locker room. Upon seeing Percy she tilted her blond head back and winked.

"Waiting for your – " she winked again " – friend?"

"Yes." The woman had a fearless look in her eye that Percy envied.

"Yeah, me too. Barringer."

"Wood."

She laughed. "Must be a Keeper thing. Hey, yours did really great. He's sort of like a human fortress."

"Thank you. Barringer was excellent. It's too bad about the Bludger she took to her back."

The woman shrugged. "She'll be all right. Just means I have to stay up massaging tonight. Those Holyhead Beaters are a force to be reckoned with."

A moment later Barringer came out of the women's locker room, her hair still wet and making dark patches on the shoulders of her robe. She smiled briefly at the woman and said hello.

"Ready, Eliza?"

They walked down the corridor together, the woman in purple trousers sliding a hand into Barringer's pocket. Percy rested against the stone wall and closed his eyes.

"Hey. You must be the redhead."

The voice that had spoken was rough and contemptuous, containing an arrogance that could not be denied. Percy opened his eyes to see a large man in gray robes standing a few feet away, just outside the locker room door. His brown hair was cut very short and he stood with his shoulders thrown back, a challenge. "Am I right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Percy honestly. The world was full of redheads.

The man laughed. "Oh, that's great. Wood goes out of his way to defend you and you won't even – Christ, I almost feel sorry for the bastard."

After a second of thought Percy understood. "If you were asking am I Oliver Wood's boyfriend," he said, pushing his back against the wall so that he moved away from it and no longer leaned, "I am. I don't think we have anything to say to each other."

"Oh, you don't? He didn't tell me you were such a little prig. Doubt he notices when you're screaming and clawing at his back."

"Go to hell, Jackson."

Oliver had finally emerged from the locker room, to Percy's relief; to his discomfort, Oliver looked more than ready to pound Jackson into a bloody pulp. "Go shag five girls in a row or whatever it is you do after matches." He stared directly into Jackson's eyes. "It hasn't changed anything, has it."

"Some Gryffindor you are, Wood," Jackson sneered. "Everyone knows you're leaving because we know about your little piece of arse."

"Yeah, and everyone used to know that Voldemort was gone for good." Oliver walked up to Percy and took his hand. "Come on, I bet my parents and Ian are waiting for us."

"Yeah, and how is Ian, anyway?" Jackson asked. "Haven't seen him in a while." He shot a patronizing look in Percy's direction; Oliver yanked Percy by the arm and led him down a different corridor and to a staircase.

"Ignore him," Oliver said, taking the stairs two at a time with a very brisk pace. "He's disturbed."

"Oliver, I can't just ignore people when they insult you, and insult me, and what about – " his voice dropped to a whisper as they reached the landing " – what about after the war, if you want to go back to Puddlemere and he's still there?"

"He only said all those things because he knows I'm leaving the team," said Oliver. "Believe me, once I'm back Reginald Jackson isn't going to say a single thing."

"He had better not, because if he – " Percy paused, his hand resting on the railing. "Ol. Please tell me he's not – "

Oliver rested a hand on Percy's shoulder and nodded.

"HIM?!" Percy yelped. "_He's_ Reginald? _The_ Reginald? Reginald of the porn shop and wanking in back alleys?"

"Is there anything else you'd like to say so that I'll feel like crap, Perce?"

"I'm sorry," said Percy miserably. "Really, Ol, I'm sorry. But God, you and Jackson..." The mere thought of Oliver, _his_ Oliver, writhing in excitement against that son of a bitch's hand, made him feel like he was going to vomit.

"Percy, I know you're in there, now stop being weird."

"I think I'm very well within my rights to be weird," said Percy, who, an hour later, was hiding in a toilet stall at the Mystical Pomegranate, the restaurant Oliver's parents had taken Oliver, Ian, and himself to for dinner.

"You're being rude to my parents, and I know you don't want that. Come on."

"I can't. I think I'm going to be sick."

He heard a thud, which he was pretty sure came from Oliver slamming a hand against the wall. "Okay, when I was eighteen he seemed like a rather alluring bit of rough trade. Obviously, things have changed." The tone of his voice became soft. "You know we belong to each other, beautiful. You can't punish me for something that happened years ago."

"I'm _not_ punishing you," Percy insisted. "I told you, I think I'm going to throw up."

"Damn it, you are not going to throw up, and – what do I have to do? Really, Percy, tell me what I have to do, and I'll – "

An awful constricting feeling overcame his stomach and he lunged for the toilet bowl.

"You can get me a glass of water," he said when he'd finished.

"If you're going to be sick again," said Ron, inching away from Percy, "at least do it over the side of the boat.

"At least I don't belch up slugs," Percy said – a weak retort for a weak stomach. "How much longer have we got left?"

"About an hour, I think."

"Where's Oliver?"

"He's up on the top deck talking to some of the Aerial Branch. Did you know Angelina Johnson's going to be in it?"

"No," said Percy, who didn't much care. "If Ginny still has any of those tangerine hard candies, tell her I'd like one, please."

The roof of Topaz Sun was flat, and surrounded by a sort of fence. A person could get to it by climbing a ladder located in the upstairs passage; there were lounge chairs and a table. Percy stood by the fence and looked into the darkness at the waves roaring against the sand. "Yes, I think I'm all right now," he answered Oliver, who was sitting in one of the chairs.

"It's the stress," Oliver said consolingly. "Too much, and that was the thing that pushed you over."

"Probably." The breeze brushed against his skin. Somewhere in the distance a bird was crying.

"I suppose it would be stupid to dwell on it during one of our last nights together," he said. Stupid, too, to dwell on it when they were apart. It was a thing that had happened, and he and Oliver both wished that it hadn't – with all that was occuring around them there was no need to think of it again. Yet one small thing nagged at his mind.

"Do you like sex in semi-public places, then?" he asked.

"I don't know. We went to back alleys because he wouldn't come to my flat and the private rooms in the porn shop were for paying customers."

Being with Oliver, Percy thought, had allowed him to break what he had thought were steadfast rules. _You will not sleep with a man. You will not cry in front of your family. It is important to show authority at all times._

The idea of adding _You must never have sex outdoors _to the list was making him achingly hard.

"Maybe we can try it when I come back home," he said, gazing up at the stars.

"Or maybe," said Oliver, "we can try it now."

Percy's eyes widened. "Oliver, Ron and Ginny's bedrooms are just below this roof!"

"So I'll press my hand over your mouth. You seemed to like that, remember?"

It was the wrong thing to say, or the right thing, depending on one's perspective.

"Just don't break this chair," Oliver moaned as Percy climbed into his lap.

"I'm going to do exactly what I want with you," Percy replied, whispering. _"To hell with the chair."_


	42. Part Four, Chapter Eleven

Part Four, Chapter Eleven

Percy's dreams that night were of being on a ship, one that was navigating through a particularly violet storm. He was on the main deck and trying to go down below with the other passengers, but any time he got remotely near the door in the floor that led to below deck the ship would lurch in a different direction and he slid backwards. His head throbbed and the ship pitched, over and over and over and –

Percy made it into the bathroom just before he vomited. Clutching his stomach, he realized that his forehead was hot and sweaty. He pushed himself up from the floor and staggered back to the bedroom. "Oliver?"

His lover blinked a few times and then sat up with a start. "Perce, what is it?"

"It wasn't a stress thing. I think I really am sick. No, I know I am."

Oliver got out of bed and began to look though the unpacked suitcases on the floor. "When I find the thermometer I'm going to take your temperature. Lie down for a bit."

He did, but the feeling of unstableness remained. "I have to get better. I'm supposed to leave on Saturday."

"If you don't get better, though, you're staying here," Oliver said. "You aren't going abroad to get other people sick."

The relentless part of Percy's mind thought to protest, but he knew it was impossible to leave the house, even, the way he felt. Oliver came back with the thermometer. "Open your mouth. There."

The cool glass under Percy's tongue was a relief, and he was disappointed when it became as hot as the rest of his body. "Once I have your temperature I think you ought to go back to sleep," Oliver said. "When you feel like you can keep something in your stomach I'll make you a potion. I have to go start Aerial Branch training tomorrow, so I'll come and check on you when I can, and either Ron or Ginny will stay with you."

"Grah, ahtah merseea Ronahn Ginneh."

"Don't talk, Percy, just keep the thermometer under your tongue. I don't want you to try and do any work while I'm away, all right?"

"Olveh, yuhmus sunk Ah'm mah."

"Maybe this is a good thing," said Oliver jokingly. "It's already increased your bilingual abilities. Another few seconds, and _don't talk._"

Percy sat begrudgingly through the half a minute and then gladly surrendered the thermometer. "What I said was, 'Great, at the mercy of Ron and Ginny,' and then 'Oliver, you must think I'm mad.' Work isn't a possibility. _Coherent thought_ isn't a possibility."

He wasn't sure if Oliver was listening; his lover was studying the tiny marks on the thermometer. "Definite fever. Do you feel warm?"

"Really warm, like a hearth just after the fire's gone out," Percy heard Ron saying when he woke. "And Oliver isn't back for another fifteen minutes. Do you suppose we ought to wake him up?"

"You ought to get me some of the bloody potion," Percy muttered, barely noting the surprised looks on Ron and Ginny's faces. "I feel like a salamander."

"Right," said Ron, and he quickly exited the room. Percy wondered how long he had been sitting there.

"You've gotten some mail," Ginny said. "From Dung and from Mum. Do you want to read them?"

"You read them to me."

Ginny bent down and picked up a few pieces of parchment from the floor. "'Percy and Wood' – this is the one from Dung, obviously – 'have moved into your flat. Found four books under the bed, very interesting reading material' – he spelled it m-u-t-e-r-i-a-l 'there. Ha.' What is that about?"

"Nothing of great importance," said Percy at once.

"'When George gets out of hospital I'm going to give him your bedroom and sleep in the' – one second, there's a smudge – 'library myself. Wanted Tibblentina to come to flat too but Figgy says she's too young. Sod that. Cane is a bloody nuisance that makes me look like an old man. Hope things are better where you are. Dung. P.S. Figgy has just been reading this over my shoulder and she says I ought to take out 'sod that', as sod apparently comes from' – " Ginny broke off. "This one has another smudge. 'Sodo'...maybe 'sodon'…"

"Sodomite, by any chance?" asked Percy wearily.

"Yeah, that's it. 'Sodomite, and she thinks you lot might be offended. Doesn't care that I'm offended by her reading over my shoulder, though.' That's the end."

At that moment Ron came back with a large steaming goblet, which Percy eagerly took and poured down his throat. It was like ice in his stomach; after a moment he could feel every inch of his body cooling by several degrees. "Thank you. Ginny, could you read the next letter?"

"There are two," she said. "One's for Oliver and one's for all the rest of us, but Ron and I opened both of them anyway. Which one do you want first?"

"You do know it's criminal to intercept other people's mail, don't you?" Percy asked.

"We aren't _intercepting_ it," Ron replied hastily. "Intercepting is when you take it and don't give it back. Ol can read it when he comes home."

"Since when do you call him Ol?"

Ron's cheeks reddened. "I don't know. Why, is there some law against calling him Ol?" He glared at Percy defensively, long and thin arms crossed over his chest.

"No, I just wondered." It was a familiarity, one that seemed a little too soon.

"I mean, it's not like you have exclusive privileges on it."

"Ron, shut up so Percy can pick a letter," Ginny said. "All right, which one?"

"Go ahead with the letter to Oliver."

Ginny cleared her throat and crossed her legs at the ankles, a very good impression of their mother. "'Dear Oliver, I hope that your last match went well and also that the four of you have moved successfully. Arthur and I spent our honeymoon in the Caribbean nearly forty years ago.' I think Mum's really breaking Remus's correspondence rules with this one. How can she not, mentioning where we are?"

"No idea. Keep going."

"New paragraph. 'As much as Ron and Ginny will try to convince you otherwise' – okay, listen to _this_ – 'please remember that they are still mostly children, no matter what they have gone through.' Ron's sixteen! Does that mean that when he turns seventeen in however many months he'll suddenly be an adult? How does she think that we're still mostly children?"

"She's a mum, Ginny," said Percy, wishing Oliver would come home. "Mums never want to think that anyone's grown up."

"'Although I trust that they will keep themselves well occupied and out of the way, assure that they do so.' What's Oliver supposed to do, put tracking devices on our ankles?"

"I don't know. Could you just finish it, without the side comments?"

Ginny shrugged apathetically. "Fine. 'Arthur and I both agree that you have been very kind to Percy' – "

His eyes flew open. "Kind? What am I, Ol's charity case?"

"Hey, no side comments, Perce."

"Shut up. Really, what sort of a thing is that to say? Would she like it if her parents had written a letter to Dad saying 'we both agree that you have been very kind to Molly'?"

"Maybe she just means kind as in, I don't know, loving or whatever," Ron offered.

Percy closed his eyes again, finding his frustration too much of an exertion, and then re-opened them. "Keep going."

"'Arthur and I both agree that you have been very kind to Percy, and that we are happy he has someone who loves him so much. Having said that, I don't want you to feel as though you two must stay together for the sake of his stability. Sometimes romances end, and we will not bear ill will towards you if you decide to leave him.' Wow. She must think you're a right basket case."

Ron was studying Percy's face. "You love him, don't you?" he asked.

Percy blinked. "What sort of a question is that?"

"You do, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I love him. You don't still think I'm in it for the sex, do you?"

"Fred told you that?" Ron yelped. "He's supposed to be on this island somewhere, isn't he, for the Aerial Branch? When I see him I'm going to hex his mouth shut and keep it that way until tomorrow. Sweet Merlin, I can't believe he – "

"I'm finishing the letter!" Ginny interrupted. "'I hope that your work for the Order' – oh, Remus is going to do his nut if he ever reads this – 'goes well and that you find it satisfying. Sincerely, Molly Weasley.' Next letter. 'Dear Percy, Ron, and Ginny, By this time you will have arrived and are hopefully settled in. Mundungus has moved out of the Burrow; unfortunately the ghoul in the attic has not joined him, although he seems to have increased its vocabulary. Say hello to Fred for me, although I'm sending him a separate letter. Love to you always, Mum.'"

"Dear Percy, Ginny, and Ron," said a voice from the corridor. "I have arrived home and hope Percy is feeling better. The first day of training was very strenuous, but not anything I didn't expect. Ron, I nearly tripped over your shoes in the doorway."

"Funny, Oliver," Ron muttered.

"It will interest you to know that Dedalus Diggle has come up with a new way to send charmed letters through the fireplaces with floo powder, so Remus's ban on communication has been lifted." Oliver came in the door and sat down beside Percy on the bed. "Percy in particular should find this to be good news. I wonder if he still intends to write me any poems. Love, Oliver. Did the potion do you any good?"

"I feel cooler," Percy said, "but still like I'm going to be sick at any minute. What time is it?"

"Two in the afternoon."

"I'm never going to be well in time to go to Canada," he groaned. "Never. Who will they send instead?"

"It's your department, Perce. You get to choose."

Dear God, that was all he needed. "How am I supposed to do that? Everyone else already has jobs within the Order. It would have to be…" An idea dawned upon him. "Someone outside of the Order." But could he ask? It was presumptuous, not to mention the fact that it put another person in a dangerous situation.

"Any ideas at all?" Oliver asked.

"Sort of," Percy said, hoping evasiveness would keep him out of trouble.

"Sort of? Is that yes or no?"

In terms of knowledge, it would be a good choice, Percy thought, and she certainly seemed as though she'd – "Ol, when your mother was a reporter for the Prophet, did she have any international experience?"


	43. Part Four, Chapter Twelve

Part Four, Chapter Twelve

"Percy, you're mad," said Ron, his voice definitive and flat. "You can't ask someone else's mum to risk her life for you, even if she _is_ your boyfriend-thing's mum."

"Boyfriend _thing_?" Ginny asked with one raised eyebrow.

"Boyfriend. Whatever." He looked over at Oliver. "Right? You aren't going to ask your mum."

Oliver exhaled and rested his head in his hand. "And after hours of training and stress – "

"I'm sorry, Ol," Percy mumbled. The floor was beginning to pitch again.

"It's okay. It's not you. I just need to think."

"About what?" Ron demanded. "What are you going to say, 'Mum, Percy's sick, I need you to go and put your life in danger'?" The impression of Oliver's accent was uncanny.

"Ron, when it comes to assigning jobs, your brother is damn good. He spent hours going all those Ministry files and we ended up with an incredibly qualified list of people."

"Yeah, and was he thinking the floor was moving when he did all that? There has to be someone else who can do it."

"Someone else we know we can trust?" Oliver shot back. "Who? They're all busy, here or somewhere else." He took his hand away from his face and looked at Percy. "To answer your original question, she spent almost all her time abroad. She even did a bit of undercover reporting. If – "

"I'll do it," Ron interrupted.

"Yeah," said Oliver, "and I'll sprout huge feathery wings and fly away. Now that the Ministry is working with the Order, and the Prophet is working with the Ministry – "

"Oliver, shut up, I'll do it," Ron insisted. "What makes you think I can't?"

"Ron," Percy muttered, "regardless of anything else, Mum's not going to let you. End of story. Isn't it enough that she let you come here in the first place? The second you get out of school you can annihilate as many Death Eaters as you want; hell, considering that you're best mates with Harry you'll probably have a chance to do some fighting within the first month of school."

"Perce, it's somebody's _mum._"

"And you're somebody's brother and son."

* * *

The ship wouldn't slow down, and the waves wouldn't stop rearing their foam-crested heads. Sometimes between the waves Oliver would come and take Percy's temperature again, or bring him soup. Once he handed him the soup bowl just as a wave hit the sodden hull and broth splattered all over the white cotton deck. Oliver wanted to clean it up, but why clean it up if the entire deck was wet already?

"Oliver, I'm soaked," Percy whispered.

Oliver told him that the water was coming from his own body, out of his skin and onto the blankets. But there were no blankets, only the fallen sails from the mast.

* * *

When a few days had passed he was told that the water was contagious. The ship had sailed away from the island and gone back to England. Still Percy could not make it below the deck. Still he spilled food and others wanted to clean what was already wet.

Remus was on the ship.

"Why are you the only one here?" Percy asked. "Where's Oliver?"

Remus was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, but for some reason the water stayed away from him. "I've already had Uric's Fever. I can't catch it again. Oliver's never had it."

"Is it because you're a werewolf?" Percy asked. "Are you immune to the water?"

"I suppose you could say that," Remus said, clearing his throat.

"Remus? When the storm stops, can I come and stay at Evermore?"

"No, Percy, you have to go to Canada and take over for Anne. Once you come home to Oliver the two of you can visit Evermore if you want to."

"Why is it called Evermore, Remus?"

"I'll tell you when you're well."

"But what if the boat sinks?"

"The boat won't sink."

"It might."

"It didn't sink when I had Uric's Fever."

"Maybe it did and you didn't know about it, because you're a werewolf and you're immune to the water."

"Percy," Remus said, "the boat isn't going to sink. Trust me on this one. With the medicine available today the boat doesn't sink anymore."

"Anymore and Evermore." Like the rise and fall of the ship. Anymore – up on the wave – and Evermore – the sliding of the stomach during the plunge.

"Do you really want me to tell you?" Remus asked.

"Yes."

"When Sirius bought the house, he called it Evermore because he said that was how long he would love me."

Evermore, always, even if the boards were to break open and the water were to sweep a person under.

* * *

After time had passed, the rain stopped, although the surges of salty water still made the ship sway. It was dry enough on deck that George could come, even with his new leg.

"I don't remember you being on the boat," Percy said to him.

"Fred and I were both on the boat when we were babies and you were little. You wouldn't remember it." George sat on the ship's rail. Percy thought it must have been awful to be a baby on the ship, until it occurred to him that Fred and George had been such strange children that the rocking of the boat was probably like the rocking of a cradle to them.

"D'you like the leg?" George asked.

He was smiling, so Percy figured it would be all right if he smiled as well. "A pirate."

"A pirate," George agreed. "Red George the Invader." He traced the wooden leg's carved design all the way down to the cloven hoof.

"Did you know Mundungus killed someone?" he said suddenly.

Percy shook his head, confused.

"In the first war. He killed one of the Death Eaters that killed Fabian and Gideon Prewett. You know. Mum's cousins."

"You and Fred are named for them," said Percy.

"Yeah. Frederick Fabian and George Gideon. They were mates of Dung's."

"I didn't know that."

"Mum always thought he was a bad influence on them."

Everything was quiet for a while.

"There was a god," Percy said at last, as the sun began to set on the horizon. "A Greek god. His name was Hephaestus, and he could make all sorts of powerful weapons and chariots. All the other gods used the things he made in battle. He didn't like war, though, he was a calm sort of person. When he wasn't forging things he sat in a high place of honor, on one of the twelve thrones of Mount Olympus. You aren't Endymion anymore."

"What?"

"Hephaestus's legs were injured when he fell to the island of Lemnos."

* * *

When the ship docked an angel arrived.

She was tall, with lightly tan skin and dark hair. It seemed as though she walked out of the foam and onto the beach, the sand encrusting her feet and the wind blowing her hair about like seaweed flows in the water. Perhaps she was a mermaid and not an angel, Percy thought. She had no fins but she did not have wings, either. He looked into her face and saw that she was not young; she had been a full-grown being for many years.

She smiled, the corners of her mouth spreading like unfolding wings.

"The boat's run ashore, Percy Ignatius," she said.

"Yes, it has."

"This afternoon you will be ready to depart."

As the last words left her lips he raised his head and saw a creature, her son, even more stunning behind her. He was broad and strong, with a sharp face and the deepest of brown eyes. He was Percy's own.

"Hello, Oliver," he said.

"Hey, beautiful." Oliver sat in the middle of the bed, between Percy's spread ankles. "Sick of St. Mungo's yet?"

"A bit tired of being in bed all the time. My stomach is fine now."

"I should hope so, because you and me and Mum and Dad and Ian are going to get the going-away dinner right this time."

"And then it's Canada in the morning."

"It is." Oliver leaned forward and lightly brushed his wet lips against Percy's dry ones. "But not yet."


	44. Part Four, Chapter Thirteen

Part Four, Chapter Thirteen

**_Dear Percy,_**

**_Hagrid's_****_ fine and all when you're in school and he's the gamekeeper who lives in the hut, but the second you have to work with him and dangerous beasts you realize he truly is mad. I'm not even going to start telling you about the manticores, or the quintapeds, or the time that he tried to convince Dumbledore that we ought to invest in some re'ems so that we could use their blood for strength. I won't even mention his plan for how to use the blood and still keep the re'em alive and healthy. I refuse to bring up his enormous little brother and the way that he sees red hair as a shiny toy. So don't ask._**

**_Not a bad person, Hagrid. Just completely out of his mind._**

**_Oliver's mother certainly is gorgeous, isn't she? For an older woman and all. If you and Ol ever want to have children make sure that he's the one they're genetically related to, as it would be better for them to be gorgeous and burly as opposed to pasty and with hair that looks like a Shiny Grawp Toy._**

**_That was a joke, Perce. Just for the record._**

**_Love, Charlie_**

Dear Percy,

I'm rubbish at letters, but I thought I'd write anyway to see how things were going. Remus (so odd, calling him Remus) and I have been at Evermore for about a week. He says you and Oliver are officially invited to come visit once you get back from traveling.

Hope things are well, Harry

_Dear Percy,_

_Things here are very different without you, though I must say that Ron and Ginny keep me from sitting around and missing you all the time. We were supposed to have a system for who made dinner, but they insist that I make better food than either of them do and so now it's all my job. Ron has kept the promises he made to your mother about not annoying anyone and doing all his own laundry._

_Fred has been doing excellent work with the Aerial Branch. As soon as the rest of the Branch begins to notice I'm going to promote him – I'm not going to do it until then because I don't want anyone to think I favor him because of you. Tensions are a little high as it is, just because of the circumstances, and so I'm trying to avoid conflict whenever possible._

_I suppose you've heard by now about the destruction in Knockturn Alley. That was Kingsley's branch. I'm dreading the day when my branch has to attack, scared that I'll kill someone like Theo who was there by chance. Kingsley's branch tried to get word out about Knockturn Alley ahead of time to avoid something like that, but there are only so many people we know we can trust, and – damn, I wish you were here._

_There's a surprise for you when you get home. No, it isn't lots of sex – that really isn't a surprise anymore, is it? (Insert huge wink here.) I think you'll like it._

_I love you always and I miss you very, very much._

_Yours, Oliver_

_Dear Percy,_

_I arrived at Evermore to find that the Queen Anne's lace was blooming everywhere in the back garden. Right now it's filling vases all over the house._

_Sirius and I never needed a guest bedroom in the house, so now Harry is sleeping on a couch. I offered him the bedroom but he said he wanted me to have it. Until we arrived no one had slept in it in over a year, and it was very odd to be there again._

_Harry's being terribly good about the fact that he hasn't got his own room. We've developed a kind of routine. Every morning I get up first and make breakfast; he does the dishes and then we're at our own devices for the rest of the morning. He makes lunch and then we typically go into town and do any errands that need to be done together. Later in the day he writes to Ron and Hermione and sometimes lets the Snitch loose in the garden so he can catch it. I'm catching up on some reading._

_He spent the day over at Topaz Sun a couple days back, has Oliver told you? Came back with a sunburn._

_We are both in the position, Percy, of being newly rich men. I hope that when you return home you don't have the shock of adjustment that I'm currently having. I find myself putting on threadbare robes only to remember that there is no longer a reason for me to not have better ones. A small thing, but somehow very unnerving._

_Sincerely, R.J.S. Lupin_

_Dear Oliver,_

_I miss you too. Your mum is great to work with, though, and I've been hearing a lot of stories about your childhood. I'll leave you to wonder which ones, and whether they're horrible or adorable._

_I'm glad to hear about Fred; I think a promotion would be excellent for him. I did hear about Knockturn Alley. I know you hate all of this, Oliver, but I trust that when the time comes you'll be able to do the right thing._

_Your mother and I are leaving for Spain tomorrow. The Canadian Ministry took a lot of time, as Voldemort never affected North America in the previous war and they didn't know nearly as much about him as the Ministries in Europe do._

_Looking forward to my surprise!_

_I'm working on a poem for you. Hopefully you'll have it in the next letter._

_Love to you always, Percy_

Percy:

Good of you and Wood to give me the flat in Allerby Lane instead of the one in London, because the flat is currently becoming full up with visitors. Like operating a hotel except that no one thinks to pay me. Death Eaters wrecked someone's house, Dumbledore sends them here. Someone's neighbors are acting suspishush, they take over the living room. Pretty soon we'll have to be sending them to the London flat.

I want to have Tibblentina's claws removed, as she likes sinking them into my trouser leg and the sides of the beds, but Figgy says that she should have them if she ever goes outside. Am inclined to believe Figgy.

Dung

_Dear Harry,_

_Your letter was fine. Oliver and I would love to visit Evermore, although the way things are going I don't know when we'll find the time. It won't be until after you've left for school, unfortunately. School – a place where you will further develop your mind that has never, ever been unbalanced._

_Remus__ tells me you got a sunburn. I hope it isn't too horrible._

_Sincerely, Percy_

**Dear Percy,**

**Things on the island are really busy, although not much of it directly affects Ron and me. Most days we swim. Ron's got some actual muscles on his arms and I can tell he thinks they're wonderful, although I think they're only sort of regular. Tonks is visiting – this is her magenta ink – and she's teaching me to do somersaults under water. You have to do it really fast or else salt water and horrible things go up your nose.**

**Harry came for a visit. We all – Harry, Ron, Oliver, Fred, and me – played sort of an abbreviated version of Quidditch on the beach. It's really cool, flying over the beach when the sun is setting.**

**Oliver, I can tell, misses you a lot, although the surprise he told you about is helping somewhat.**

**Love, Ginny**

**P.S. Tonks and Ron want to write…**

WOTCHER, PERCY! OLIVER TOLD ME ABOUT HOW THE PIXIES ACTUALLY HELPED YOU TWO OUT A BIT, SO NOW I DON'T FEEL SO AWFUL. I'M SPENDING MY THREE DAY'S HOLIDAY HERE, AND THEN IT'S OFF TO ANOTHER MISSION WITH SEVERUS. HOPE ALL IS WELL WITH YOU.

TONKS

Hi, Percy, wish I wasn't writing in pink ink. Stuff here is fine. Harry came over but Ginny's told you about that. Hermione's parents say that they don't see enough of her and are insisting that she stays home for the rest of the summer. Not much else to say. Ron

_Dear Charlie,_

_I'm sorry that Hagrid's mad. I'm also sorry that you are a Shiny Grawp Toy. Maybe if you wore one of the balaclavas he would leave you alone._

_Yes, Ol's mother is very pretty, although she thinks she needs to lose weight (which I don't agree on). As for children, I know you meant it as a joke, but it got me thinking. How long do you think this war will last? Stupid question, forget that, how old do you think a person ought to be before they have children? It's a long way off but I've been thinking about it a lot because it takes my mind off things. _

_Spain__ is rather warm, and I don't know very much Spanish yet at all, though Anne is fluent._

_Love, Percy_

_Dear Remus,_

_I'm pleased to hear that things at Evermore are going as well as can be expected. What books are you reading? I haven't read one for the fun of it since March of last year, now that I think about it._

_Work is stressful and exhausting. If Sirius managed to do all the things that Anne and I are doing on his own he must have been very determined. I wish I could have met him._

_Sincerely, Percy_

_Dear Percy,_

_We've bombed Malfoy Manor. Afterwards we heard that Draco and his mother had been out of the house at the time, but we injured a house-elf and the entire time I was feeling as though I were on your feverish ship. The place is completely annihilated, just a heap of stone and smoke and ash._

_Retaliation is expected soon._

_Yours, Oliver_

_Ol__ – _

_Oh God, I love you so much. The poem is finished. Before I got your most recent letter I was going to tell you not to laugh at the poem, but now you can laugh all you like if it will make you feel better._

_waves__ undulate, bodies wave - _

_salt__ of sea and salt of semen_

_sweet__ sweat, liquid of life - _

_island__ is land,_

_undulate___

_Love, always, Percy_

**Perce,**

**Last time I saw you you were pretty out of it, so I thought I'd write and tell you that I'm all right. Not great, but not horrid, either. Dung and I are busy making weapons, and both of us have to go back to St. Mungo's a lot for physical therapy. I don't think about my leg so much as I used to – loads of people are staying here and I'm sharing what used to be you and Ol's bed with two other blokes, from Cheshire. When you never have any privacy you get used to other people being around.**

**If Oliver was right you'll be getting this letter once you're in South Africa. Best of luck.**

**Your brother, George**

_Dear George and Dung,_

_Not much time to write. Things here are very busy but I'm okay. Say hello to everyone for me._

_Percy_

Percy dear,

I know we haven't written but Remus and Oliver have been telling us all of your news. Things are very quiet in the Burrow without any of you here. Bill comes over for dinner on most nights, though. Your father is messing about with some sort of fuse and I'm keeping very busy.

Love to you always, Mum (with love also from_ **Bill**_ and **Dad**)

_Dear Oliver, Ron, Ginny, and Fred,_

_It was very indefinite for a while but thing are now on schedule and I'm still coming home on 1 September. No time to write more, except to say that I love you all and am counting down the hours._

_Love, Percy_

Author's Note: This is the second-to-last chapter. The last will contain a full-length author's commentary. I would like to thank you all for your support and encouragement.


	45. Part Four, Chapter Fourteen

Part Four, Chapter Fourteen

Percy came home early. While, not early, exactly; he had always been scheduled to return on the thirty-first of August but in his last letter to Oliver he had accidentally given the date as the first of September. He was greeted by a silent house.

The marble floor of the front corridor was covered with a light layer of sand. On the wall was a new photograph: Ron and Ginny at the beach, with sunglasses, cautiously smiling at the camera. Both of them had more freckles than white skin.

It figured, Percy thought, that he would come home to an empty house. Oliver had to be training with the branch – it was only three o'clock in the afternoon – and Ginny and Ron were doubtless outside, relishing their last few moments of the summer holiday. What sort of food was in the house? Perhaps Percy would take a nap until someone came home. Or maybe a bath would be first, seeing as travel always made him feel grimy, regardless of the method of transportation.

"Who's there?"

Percy froze, one hand still resting on the handle of the door. Was there someone he knew in the house, or had it been taken over? He had no idea if he should speak or not.

"I'm giving you five seconds."

Scottish! The voice was Scottish, and deep, and – "Oliver, it's me."

Nothing happened. "Percy?"

"Yeah. I'm home, I got the date on the letter wrong, the letter that I sent you."

He saw Oliver's shadow before he saw the man himself. Oliver looked disheveled, even more of a mess than he had looked at school on the days where he returned to the dormitory before taking a shower after Quidditch practice. A greenish stain started at the top of his sleeve and continued almost to the cuff. He hadn't shaved. "Where's everyone else?"

Oliver contemplated Percy for a moment. "They've gone back to England," he said slowly. "Wiltshire. Evermore. We thought you were coming home tomorrow, and seeing as they leave for school tomorrow I went with them to get all their things four days ago and then sent them off with Remus."

"Was he pleased about it?"

"I think he was." Oliver licked his lips and then stopped still. "Damn it, Perce, get _over_ here."

Once Percy reached Oliver's arms the smile on his face was crushed into a kiss. "I missed you desperately," Oliver murmured, trailing small kisses up and down Percy's neck. "And the bed – I can't believe I got so used to sleeping in a bed with another person that it seemed empty all the time."

"I can," said Percy, his hands feeling the thick line of Oliver's shoulder blades. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Every once in a while Ron would be in another room and he'd say something or another, and for a second I'd think it was you."

"Your mum gets the same sort of look on her face as you do when she's thinking hard about something."

Oliver pulled back slightly to look into Percy's eyes. "Things are a disaster in this house, I've been awful about cleaning since Ron and Ginny went back to England."

"That's all right." Had Oliver always had those faint lines across his forehead? "I've got an entire suitcase full of dirty clothes."

"Leave it here and come to bed," said Oliver softly.

"I ought to have a bath first," Percy replied, though he found himself aroused.

"The sheets need to be washed anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, I've been wanking like mad without you and _Scourgify_ doesn't work as well if you haven't the energy to properly concentrate." Oliver stroked down the front of Percy's robe with one finger and stopped when he reached the waist. "This looks as though it needs some attention…"

Percy's mouth silently fell open; he let Oliver lead him upstairs.

There were discarded clothes strewn across the floor of their bedroom, and after a few brief minutes of kissing and teasing Percy's robes joined the collection, with Oliver's following soon after. "God, Percy, you got so skinny."

"I didn't mean to," he protested, gently rubbing one of Oliver's nipples. "We were always so busy and there wasn't always time to eat."

"How long are you staying here for?"

"A week and a half."

"Goddamn it, I can't feed you up enough in a week and a half."

The mood was not broken but it was strained. "I'll eat as much as I can."

"How long will you be gone, next time?"

"At least three months," said Percy; the words seemed like a death sentence.

"Three bloody _months?_"

"Ol, don't be angry."

Oliver opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. "No, I won't be," he said. "There's nothing I can do about it, and the longer you're gone means the more you're working which means the closer we are to the end of the war."

"If everything goes well in China it might only be two and a half months."

"How are you going to do anything in China? Neither you or my mum speak Chinese."

"They speak English." Percy reached one hand around Oliver's backside and squeezed. "Can we – "

"Yeah." Oliver swallowed, shut his eyes for a moment and opened them once more. "Yeah, we can."

They made love twice; it would have been three times but by that point the sheets were unbearable and so they started them washing themselves and began to run a bath. Unlike the black-and-chrome bathroom at Allerby Lane the bathroom of Topaz Sun was enormous, with blue, white, and yellow tiles and a great blue tub. The old towels, however, hung on their new hooks and had a familiar look that gave Percy an odd sense of comfort.

"There's so much to do in this house," Oliver said, dipping a few toes in the water. "Today and tomorrow are a holiday from training because enough people have kids to send back to school."

"Don't you think the Death Eaters might think of that and decide it's the perfect time to attack?" Percy asked.

"Of course I do. See the little box up near the ceiling? Alert device. I've got one on a chain that I have to take with me whenever I leave the house. Anyway, I thought I could leave all the cleaning and stuff until today, seeing as I'd have time today, but that didn't work out. I took one look at it and spent the day sleeping on the couch with the cat – you haven't met the cat!"

He ran out of the bathroom in his dressing gown and returned a few moments later with a tiny kitten pressed to his chest.

"Spawn of Sapphira Whosit?" Percy asked, smiling.

"That's right. She was the surprise I was talking about in my letters, I hope you like her."

The kitten looked over at Percy and mewed. "It's okay, that's Perce, he lives here too. Want to hold her?" Oliver asked Percy.

He hesitated. "I don't know anything about cats."

"You just take her when I give her to you and make sure she doesn't get her claws stuck on your dressing gown. They're like little hooked needles." Oliver walked over to him and held out the kitten. "Take her quick before she gets irritated."

Percy curled his hands around the kitten's stomach; Oliver let go. The kitten had fur that was soft like goose feathers and tiny ribs that seemed to barely contain her heartbeat. She sniffed at Percy for a few seconds.

"I like her," he said.

"I didn't name her so that you could do it."

"Are you sure you want to give that responsibility to someone who once named a pet rat 'Scabbers'?"

"That was when you were a kid. You named Hermes, that's a good name."

The kitten yawned, revealing perfectly tiny yet perfectly sharp teeth and breath that smelled of tuna.

"You don't have to do it now, of course," Oliver said. "You can think about it and all."

Percy looked up at him. "Emerald."

"What?"

"Emerald, that's what I want to name her."

Oliver gave him a puzzled look. "She's got blue eyes and brown fur, where are you getting 'Emerald' from?"

"We lost _The Emerald Cloak._ We have her now. Why, don't you like it?"

"I love it," said Oliver, and he took the kitten back from Percy, set her in the corridor, and shut the door behind her. "Let's have the bath."

The tub was larger than the one at Allerby Lane and held both of them comfortably. Reaching for the soap that sat on the ledge, Oliver slid behind Percy and began to wash his back. "Forget knotted tree roots, your back feels like a bag of rocks."

"That's probably because of Spain. It was hot and I couldn't sleep and I missed you, and then I'd think about how I really needed to go back to sleep, but I couldn't, and I'd get tense."

"This isn't just tense, it's petrified." Percy felt water splashing across his back, washing away the soap.

As they had once before they washed each other, but this time they were sitting and it turned into a tangle of limbs. "Ol, you're sitting on my foot."

"Sorry about that." Oliver leaned back against the edge of the tub and ran his fingers through Percy's hair; Percy reclined to rest his head on Oliver's chest. There was no sound except for their own soft breathing.

"I hate to go on about this," said Oliver, "but whenever I think of all the crap in this house that needs to get cleaned my head starts to spin."

"We'll fix it tomorrow," Percy replied.

"Tomorrow my friend Jean-Marc is coming over for dinner."

"In the morning and afternoon, then. We'll fix it tomorrow."

"You're right," Oliver agreed. "We'll fix it."

Percy shut his eyes. There would always be things that needed to be fixed tomorrow, but for now he would be content and listen to the steady beating of Oliver's heart.

The End

_Author's Commentary – Written October 2004  
  
_I hope I won't be thought narcissistic for writing an author's commentary. I have always enjoyed reading those of other writers.  
  
_My Original Intentions_  
  
I "converted" to Percy/Oliver a few months before OotP came out, and though I was dying to write a fic for them, I decided to wait until after OotP because I didn't want to write something that would become AU in a matter of weeks. I was fairly sure that Percy was going to disagree with his family over the matter of Voldemort's return, however, so I had some time in advance to think about how that would affect his relationship with Oliver.  
  
Immediately after OotP I wrote a Sirius/Remus fic right away; I needed to process and mourn and all that. That fic is called "Facing", and although it does not exist in the same fic universe as In A Time Of Uncertainty it does involve Harry living with Remus after Sirius's death.  
  
My original plot structure went something like this: Percy and Oliver have a relationship in school, somehow it doesn't work out, they get back together post-OotP, Percy tries to reconcile with his family, a fair bit of angst is involved, Remus somehow plays a fairly large role.  
  
_What Changed_  
  
Between my original plot structure and the final chapter, _tons_ of things were edited out, put in, moved about, dismissed as stupid, or added after a moment of inspiration. Here are the most significant ones. Hopefully all of these changes were for the better.  
  
I first thought that Percy and Oliver would break up because they were afraid to be together. It was melodramatic, it was clichéd, and it ended up bearing far too much of a resemblance to a series of Remus/Sirius fics that I wrote pre-OotP, called the If In The Series. (I now consider them to be, while not awful, very definitely early works.) As I wrote the first few chapters I decided that Oliver as I had established him wouldn't break up with Percy out of fear or some sort of internalized homophobia, but that Percy probably would. After all, what would the Ministry think? Hence Part One as it currently reads.  
  
In early drafts the Recruitment Department consisted solely of Oliver, Percy, and Charlie – adding Mrs. Figg and Mundungus is probably the change I like the most. They were never originally intended to have very large roles, but as the fic continued their forceful personalities began to demand more and more time. The dynamic between them was quite fun to write. Some readers have asked if they have some unresolved sexual tension; I really don't know. As they were intended as very minor characters, I didn't think much about their love lives. Once I realized that they were going to have fairly big parts I decided that I'd leave their relationship somewhat ambiguous. You can see them as having UST vibes or not. The main thing about their relationship is that Mundungus respects Mrs. Figg and wants to have her respect, though he isn't willing to change anything about himself. Mrs. Figg considers him irresponsible but over time begins to give him credit where credit is due.  
  
Percy's discovery of the romance between Remus and Sirius also suffered from melodrama in its original conception, though by the time I'd written the first six chapters or so of Part Two I had revised it.  
  
I toyed with the idea of Ian having an enormous crush on Percy, but it didn't add anything to the plot, and so it was discarded. Ian thinks Percy is attractive, but he's more interested in his boyfriend Arnaud.  
  
_The Characters_  
  
There simply has to be more to Percy than what we are given in canon. At some point I hope that the things I see as his insecurities will be explored. The main thing I perceive about his character, both in canon and in this fic, is that he always wants to do the right thing but can have a very warped view of what the right thing is. He essentially loves his family, I think; in GoF he's worried when Ron comes out of the lake after the Second Task and even in OotP I have the sense that he's rejecting his family "for their own good" as well as his own. Overall I see him as an immature person who is still in the phase of doing things for the sake of other people's approval, a phase he mostly leaves over the course of In A Time Of Uncertainty.  
  
Oliver is a Gryffindor. He's determined. Given his question about what basketball is from PS/SS, he's probably a pureblood. He likes Quidditch almost to the point of insanity and becomes the Reserve Seeker for Puddlemere United after graduating from Hogwarts. And that, I believe, is the full extent of the information we have about Oliver from the books. Given those things I decided that he probably has a very high sense of morals – he doesn't cheat like the Slytherin team does in Quidditch and values hard work – and is most likely quite intelligent. He's athletic but has never struck me as a "dumb jock". Oliver as Scottish is an image solely created by Sean Biggerstaff, but I didn't see anything wrong with it and so I kept it for the fic. In contrast to Percy's enormous family, I decided to make him an only child, and it was also for the sake of contrast that he accepts his own sexuality. I gave him a fascination with murder mysteries because I thought he'd like the complexity.  
  
Although Remus is a quiet person in canon, a lot of the time he's a prime example of "actions speak louder than words", and so I didn't have to speculate much on his character except when it came to his relationship with Sirius – and even there canon gives a fair bit to work with. After Sirius's death he is in mourning but still recognizes his responsibilities to Sirius, Harry, the Order, and, once they have formed a tentative friendship, Oliver and later Percy. He isn't overly comfortable with his role of gay mentor, but he tries to do the best he can.  
  
Sirius is never physically present in In A Time Of Uncertainty, but his memory and influence are a character onto themselves. He ends up affecting everything from Remus's teaching to dinner conversation at the Burrow to the friendship between Remus and Oliver to Percy's understanding of Remus as a person. In a way he isn't fully gone, as everyone is still processing his death – including me.  
  
Penelope is a basically good person, and Percy genuinely loves her while they are together. He has role models as to how to have a good relationship with a woman, and therefore their love is able to grow. However, he's still a child in a lot of ways, and so he allows it to be trampled upon by his visions of professional success. I don't know what's happened to Penelope, but like Percy I hope she's found someone else and is happy.  
  
Mundungus is Mundungus – he takes advantage of each opportunity and is loyal even though he is always looking out for himself. (I'll admit, part of the reason I like Mundungus is Sirius liked him.) From canon I have the feeling he's a pretty good person, and therefore in this fic he is fond of Mr. Tibbles and is irritated at Charlie and Oliver for poking fun at his (Dung's) mother, though in Part Four we learn that she annoys him. He truly cares about the Order and is helpful to George after George's injury. If he likes a person it is because of how they act, not who they are in the eyes of others.  
  
This last is a quality that he shares with Mrs. Figg – Arabella to you if you're over the age of thirty-five. She, however, is less inclined to make exceptions for irresponsibility. I suspect that she's had to prove herself a lot during the course of her life, being a Squib among wizards, and it's Mundungus's initial lack of proving himself that annoys her. Oliver and Percy are working hard and therefore in her good graces. (And in case any of you Dung/Figgy shippers were wondering about their age difference, Mundungus is fifty-eight and I put Mrs. Figg at seventy-four.)  
  
Despite some members of the fandom who blame every single problem Molly's children have on their mother, I think that she is essentially a good mother who has made some mistakes. She is not immediately opposed to new things, but she takes some time to get used to them, and therefore Percy's relationship with Oliver is still settling in her head. Molly is worn out by both the conflicts between her children and the war, and at times can be a bit hysterical. As shown by her eventual allowance of Ron and Ginny to live in the Caribbean, she's willing to compromise if it will settle tensions.  
  
At this point of his life, Arthur is essentially tired. Working for both the Order and the Ministry, he's spending all his energy on practicality and therefore doesn't have much left for dramatic situations. (He also may still be undergoing some physical stress from his injury.) This quality of realism allows him to take him less time than Molly to accept Oliver as their son's boyfriend, and the same quality that leads him to oppose Percy and Oliver's early intimacy.  
  
If Oliver's parents were mirror images of Percy's, Michael is Molly's parallel component. He begins with a very set idea of how life is going to be and is forced to change it, something that he is not entirely willing to do. Seeing as Oliver is his only son he is very protective of him.  
  
Anne is to Arthur as Michael is to Molly, though Anne is less exhausted and up until the last few chapters has many different areas on which to focus her attentions. (The alliteration between the two couples is coincidental, though I wish I could say it wasn't!) Among the four parents, she has perhaps the widest view of the world.  
  
When I began to create Ian I had one goal in mind: Don't Make A Gary Stu. This was the original reason for his looking like the epitome of normality, though in later drafts I decided that Oliver has had enough drama in the boyfriend department and would be attracted to someone who was both ordinary and already a friend. Like Mrs. Figg and Mundungus, Ian kept wanting more time and development. He's a proud person, to a certain degree, and doesn't like to be wrong; he also doesn't always have a good concept of things that should be private and things that should be public. All and all he's a kind person, though, and a good friend. The degree of intimacy that he and Oliver have in their first scene together results from their friendship of over a decade; a few readers said they felt a little bad that Oliver and Ian had to break up. If they had stayed together, though, their relationship wouldn't have worked; as Oliver says, the war would mean there would always be things he couldn't tell Ian. They love each other and were essentially friends with benefits. (As a side note, Ian is named for Sir Ian McKellan, wonderful actor and my fellow shipper of both Frodo/Sam and Antonio/Bassanio from _The Merchant of Venice_, though his fairly common last name is another indicator of his ordinariness.)  
  
Charlie, I decided, as an older sibling with more life experience, would be generally supportive of Percy. Bill is also supportive but not involved to the extent that Charlie is, as Charlie, Percy, and Oliver had more time together with the Recruitment Department. Speaking of Bill, I decided very early on that he would have broken up with Fleur, for one reason: I don't like Fleur. Perhaps not very fair, but there it is. Besides, Fleur/Bill would mean she'd most likely necessitate at least a couple of appearances, and I couldn't think of anything she'd contribute to the story. Bellatrix ended up in Azkaban for the same reason.  
  
Ron was pretty fun to write. From his perspective, I think it would very easily look like Percy began to date Oliver so he could garner sympathy and acceptance into the Order. In canon Ron never seems willing to believe the best of Percy even when the circumstances are highly open to interpretation. Ron as a homophobe is, to put it mildly, not one of my favorite characterizations of him. He's like his mother in that he needs time to get used to new things. Besides, in this story Ron already knows about Remus's relationship with Sirius and is willing to live in Grimmauld Place with him for a time, so Ron as a homophobe was not only unflattering but nonsensical.  
  
What has always fascinated me about Fred and George is how much of their identity in canon (at least what Harry sees of it) is focused around being funny and being twins. As the war continued I figured that they'd be forced to grow up in a hurry. The removal of George's leg physically marks them as different while their emotional selves are going through different things.  
  
Ginny is analytical and forthcoming, qualities I think she displayed in OotP. Her ordeal in CoS aside, in some ways I see her as the most "normal" Weasley child.  
  
There is a lack of gay characters in fiction, I believe, who are able to help their younger counterparts without being either predatory or asexual. In this story Remus ends up meeting this challenge, but before he does so Jean-Marc is Oliver's guidance in the area of sexual identity. He has a healthy relationship with his boyfriend Louis but is also a writer of erotic fiction, which he shares with Oliver in the way that straight male friends might pass around a porn magazine. Jean-Marc has insights on life but doesn't know everything. It is through him that Oliver meets Luc, his first boyfriend. Originally Luc had a bit more of a role; he's very charming but not in a false way. (Jean-Marc and Luc are named after three of the Gospel writers, as in the gospel truth; with them Oliver is his whole self for the first time in his life. The French version of Matthew was not used for personal reasons.)  
  
In terms of obsessive madness, Penge is to Puddlemere United as Oliver is to Gryffindor Quidditch PS/SS to PoA. I made him a former Hufflepuff because I think that Hufflepuffs, despite their unfair reputation, have the capacity to be very tenacious. He certainly is fair, if not always gentle about it. It's worthy to note that he sees Percy ("the redhead") as another distraction influencing the team, along with girlfriends and publicity, and nothing more. (Penge, as a couple of readers guessed, is named after Clive Durham's country estate in the novel Maurice by E. M. Forster. While at Penge Clive and Maurice try to cover up their relationship – later former relationship – as Oliver and Reginald Jackson are hiding theirs at Puddlemere United. Penge is in a way the personification of Puddlemere as a whole. After this the similarities between IATOU and Maurice end. Confusingly enough, Oliver's mother Anne Wood is one letter away from the maiden name of Clive's wife, Anne Woods. I didn't realize that until her name was already established as such. It's the Mark Evans of IATOU. If you're confused, I don't blame you.)  
  
Reginald Jackson, Puddlemere Beater and former porn shop employee…I have no idea why he is the way he is, and all that is important for the purpose of the story is that he is that way. Obviously he has a lot of problems accepting himself, though, unfortunately, that doesn't stop him from wanking Oliver in back alleys. Why did Oliver want to be with Jackson in the first place? Because he still had a certain degree of insecurity (remember, part of the reason he asked Percy to dinner in Part One was because Luc had a lover and Oliver felt he ought to be able to have a love life as well) and read too many erotic novels. Jackson the rough-trade worker at the porn shop is indeed something out of a realm of fantasy. (No parts of his name are symbolic whatsoever. In fact, I don't think any of the Puddlemere players have meaningful names…Douglas the Seeker isn't named after Bosie or anything like that.)  
  
There are a lot of Percy/Oliver fics in which they are the only two Gryffindor boys in their year and therefore have a room to themselves; it certainly works if the author wants to get them quickly into bed with each other (not always a bad thing!) but is probably not very realistic. What I like about Theo and Lane is that they ended up serving as two characters representing the outer world. While Percy and Oliver are having their subtle flirtations in Part One, Lane is blunt about his opinions and pulls Oliver out of his own little world. Lane's pregnant wife in Part Four is indicative of the responsibilities coming with age. And, of course, Theo's death is a sign that the war is truly having consequences. (In retrospect, it probably wasn't very bright of me to name him Theo, considering there is already one Theodore and one Ted in canon. His middle name, Asato, is the first name of one of my favorite anime characters of all time, Tsuzuki from Yami no Matsuei.)  
  
_Bits and Pieces_  
  
No, there is not a real book called _Hung Jury_, nor is _The Emerald Cloak_ a real book or based on a real book.  
  
In Part Two Oliver mentions the Edinburgh Fringe Festival; I performed there with my threatre group in high school. I don't recommend climbing Arthur's Seat.  
  
The additional "S" in Remus's name in Part Four (R.J.S. Lupin) stands for Sirius. He took it on in memory.  
  
Snape and Tonks are mentioned as being on a mission together because I'm a Snape/Tonks shipper.  
  
Arthur's mention in Part Two of a flame-breathing computer is, in retrospect, a manifestation of my fears about this fic!  
  
_Canon JKR Clarified While I Was Writing_  
  
This fic is already AU. JKR gave Ginny's full name as Ginevra after I had it down as Virginia, and she made the age difference between Percy and his two older brothers smaller than I thought it was. She also placed Percy's birthday in August, whereas I have it in June.  
  
_Acknowledgements_  
  
Several people were very supportive while I was writing this fic, and although I know I'm going to miss someone, I'll do my best to get them all. EnchantedOnyx was enthusiastic about this fic throughout, and at times was a stable presence that I needed. WvB's reviews were greatly appreciated, as a (bisexual) woman writing about men in love always feels reassured if a gay man likes it. Other thanks go to Thia, for her owl review that sat in my box for months; Lily Michelle, for reading this fic even though it contradicts one of her favorite ships; rabidfangirl, for assuring me of my "eminent decency"; Hiril Moon and Gilana1 for their reviews that arrived by clockwork; Elisovara Marinetta Walker (also known as Eli, Scudder-Hall, and several other names) for all the squees; and lastly, to my fiancé, for listening to me go on and on about "I know what happens, but not how it happens" about eighty million times in the past year and four months. I love you.


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